Reminiscence
by Nolehcednoces
Summary: An Elvaan red mage ponders the events that led her to pick the sword and wander Vana'diel as an adventurer. Not really based off any storyline, just sort of what it'd be like to actually live in their world.
1. The Dangers of Chainspell

_Disclaimer: FFXI Online is property of SquareEnix, and not my own. I'm just borrowing a little for the time being._

_I'd like to thank my wife for allowing me to yet again cheat on her with my digital mistress. Without her help, my heroine would probably be stuck in a parking lot somewhere picking her nose throughout the entire tale._

**Chapter 1**

**The Dangers of Chainspell**

The quiet expanse of the green fields was broken only by the occasional rocky hills, trees, and a number of rolanberry vineyards. On this calm day, the only sound was the rhythmic pounding that signaled the approach of a large, yellow-feathered bird. The wide tail plumage bounced as its powerful legs propelled it forward. The chocobo bounced from side to side every once in a while in an attempt to throw its rider and her cargo. Each time it did so, the rider pulled on the reigns and stroked its soft neck to calm it down.

Its rider was a blond, young Elvaan woman clad in a velvet tabard with matching hat and tights. Her hair was fastened in a braid on the side of her head, and though it wasn't immediately apparent, the way she handled her fickle chocobo spoke volumes of the amount of strength stored in body. Her delicate face was a picture of happiness as she approached her destination. Not only was she excited to arrive at her favorite spot but she looked forward to the end of her ride on her rented chocobo. Chocobos may be swift of foot but some of the more spirited ones don't always provide the most comfortable rides. _That's the risk involved in renting a chocobo from the stables,_ she thought to herself, _you never know which one you're going to get_.

After an hour's worth of riding, she finally arrived at her secluded hideaway. It was the view that this spot afforded her which was the reason that the young woman chose it. The location was isolated but it was also for the consideration of others as well as her comfort. The morning's sole agenda was to practice her enhancing magic skills after which she was to meet up with her childhood friend Magiere. She just as easily could have spent her time in town practicing her incantations but the bustle of the city made it hard to concentrate. Also, the effects of her spells were a noticeable distraction to the residents of Jeuno which didn't win her any popularity contests. At least, it was not the popularity that an adventurer like herself wanted anyway.

The young woman dismounted the chocobo with a grace that spoke of experience. She then unfastened the small, brown blanket strapped the saddle. After unrolling the blanket, she sat down, took a deep breath and began to clear her mind. The familiar concentration set in immediately. She didn't even notice when the chocobo wandered off to peck at the nearby ground for insects and other tasty treats. At once, she began to utter the incantations for a protection from earth spell. Little orbs of light and energy began to crackle around her as her spell progressed to completion. When she finished the spell, an almost imperceptible sheen surrounded her signaling the success of the spell. Even if she hadn't been able to detect the aftermath of the spell visually, she knew the spell had worked by the mental drain it had caused her. _One down_, she thought, _hundreds more to go_.



Hours passed while she cycled through all her spells systematically. She would cast until she was too drained to go any further, and then rest until she could start all over again. It was a tedious process and after a while it because automatic. Soon, she found it increasingly difficult to concentrate as the memories of her rocky past began to force their way into the forefront of her mind. She resigned herself to the fact that she would not get any more practice done today and began to look around for her wayward chocobo. It hadn't wandered very far, and she found it seated in the shade next to a tree trying to preen its feathers with its trimmed beak. Once it took notice of the woman its head jerked up and tilted to the side curiously.

"Easy, girl," she calmly said as she approached her mount. "It's time for lunch."

The chocobo seemed to understand the word "lunch" and perked up cheerfully. It responded with a heartfelt, "Kweh!" She then reached into the saddlebags and retrieved her lunch and some gysahl greens for her large, yellow friend. While the chocobo wasted no time in gobbling down its food, the young woman wanted to savor her meal. Today's feast was courtesy of the Culinarian's Guild in Windurst and consisted of a cold salmon sub sandwich and pineapple juice. Despite trying to busy herself with the present, there was something about that particular day that she still couldn't shake the thoughts of her past and as she bit into the sandwich, she became lost in reverie…

- - - - - -

"Willow Raulemant! Watch what you're doing!," a voice bellowed from across the room.

The voice of her father caused the young girl to drop the small log in her hands and snapped her from her thoughts just in time to see the flames of her kiln die out. Her sole task was to keep just that from happening.

"Sorry, papa."

"How are you supposed to advance to crystal synthesis when you can't even get the basics of goldsmithing down? I give you a second chance and this is how you pay me back? By not following even the simple instructions I gave you? Just go. Leave. Get out of my sight."

"But I said I was sorry…"

"OUT!"

The young girl ran off, tears filling her eyes. The sounds of her father cursing Altana for such a daughter filled the air during her retreat. As soon as her father was out of sight, the tears stopped and most of her feigned sadness melted away. Her father may have been a goldsmith, but he was still an imposing figure to her. Even though it hurt her to get yelled at, Willow was secretly relieved to be out of the shop. Things had become strained between her and her father after she ruined half a shipment of copper ore a month ago. After she had caused the other kiln to explode the week prior, he had become nearly impossible to be around. She didn't have the heart to tell him that she didn't want to follow his footsteps and become a goldsmith. It's not that learning to shape the fine metals into works of art didn't appeal to her; she just longed to be out in the open living her own life and not someone else's expectation of it.

Willow knew there would be hell to pay later when her father came home so she began to formulate a plan to mitigate her future suffering. She would make a special dinner for him and he would forget all about being angry at her. And, if he were in a good enough mood, she would tell him she didn't want to apprentice for him anymore at the goldsmith guild. _Hmm, now what to cook…? Aha! I'll make him my special roast carp and fried popotoes. We've got the popotoes, now all I need is fish._ The 

idea seemed like the greatest revelation in recorded history to her, yet the fact that she was a worse cook than a goldsmith never entered her mind on the way back to her house.

The young girl ran through the Bastokan market area, her long blond locks bouncing cheerfully as she passed the auction house on the way home. The chaotic shouting and haggling over prices between adventurers and vendors was the norm here and Willow liked to see the goings on of such a busy place. Although she was tempted to look at the wares on display and fantasize about the adventures she could have with them, there were more pressing matters at hand. Her very own mission demanded that she retrieve her fishing rod and tackle box.

She soon made her way through the bustle of the market square and was on the verge of opening the door to her home when she heard a commotion behind her.

"Stop! Thief!!" yelled a tall man garbed in odd scarlet clothing. He pointed at the small, brown-haired girl running ahead of him with all the speed she could muster with her tiny legs.

"Magiere! What have you done?," Willow whispered to the girl when was close enough to hear. Magiere simply winked at her as she ran by on her way towards the crowd trying to enter the Bastokan residential district. The little girl quickly darted in between people and in and out of houses until she felt she had lost her pursuer. When the commotion outside died down, she quietly made her way to Willow's house, careful not to arouse suspicion.

She let herself in through the window and looked around the small living space for her friend, Willow. As she scanned the room, she took notice of the two beds in the far corner; one was Willow's the other belonged to her father. Next to the beds was a chest that Willow's father always kept under lock and key. Both of them spent many nights arguing over the possible contents of the chest. Next to the beds was a small but sturdy work table upon which lay the tools of a goldsmith. Neither of them really knew what they were for but they looked absolutely curious in their design and shape. Across from the workspace and beds was the makeshift kitchen and it was here that Magiere saw her friend. Willow was busy looking at the shelf of cooking ingredients to make sure she had what she needed for later. She took notice of her friend sneaking in the window instantly.

"What were you doing running around like that," Willow shouted.

"Oh, uh, that angry man accused me of taking something that belonged to him."

"What was it _this time?_"

"Nothing, I swear! But when he grabbed me and made me turn out my pockets, a pretty purse fell out of one of them. I had never seen it before and had no idea how it got in there but it was sooooo pretty."

"You finally got caught red-handed. I knew you were going to get yourself in trouble one of these days doing that."

"But I didn't do anything! He was so mad and he grabbed me by the wrist and he was going to take me to the gate guards and have me thrown in jail! So, I kicked him in the shin and ran."

"At least you got away. Your papa would kill you if he found out you got in trouble with the law again."

"Ah, he doesn't care. He's too busy spending his days drinking and fishing off the port bridge."

"That reminds me! I have to go fishing too. I need some moat carp for dinner tonight. I want to smooth things over with Papa so I'm going to make him a special dinner. You want to come too? If yo are done taking things from the adventurers, that is."

"I didn't take anything!" Magiere protested, but then a funny look came over her face as she reached in her pocket. The color drained from her face as she pulled out the exotic coin purse she had so fervently denied taking. "Maybe I did," she relented. "I can't go out there! After all that, someone'll recognize me! Let me borrow one of your shirts."

"You would drown in one of my shirts," Willow noted matter-of-factly, as she stood up to her full height. Although they hadn't finished growing, Willow's Elvaan ancestry meant she towered over all her peers.

"That's alright, I'll just tie a belt around it and it'll be like a dress on me. We'd better hurry if we want to make it back before dinner."

Willow handed Magiere one of her shirts and after tying on a belt, it almost could pass for a dress on Magiere. Though, it only came up to her upper thighs and was a much shorter "dress" than her father would have been comfortable letting her out of the house in, if her father objected to such matters. She could have left home dressed in a pillow sheet and her father wouldn't have batted an eye. Willow grabbed the poles and tackle and they both slipped out of the house. Magiere avoided eye contact with everyone and glanced around for any signs of recognition. She was relieved to find none.

Since Magiere didn't want to run across her father while fishing the young girls decided to leave the confines of the city of Bastok and fish out in the open Bastore Sea. Their lack of a fishing vessel meant they would have to be restricted to fishing off the cliffs overlooking the water. It wasn't far from the city but it was still far enough for a little peace and quiet and away from accusing eyes. The day dragged on and the girls occupied themselves with gossip and news of things happening around town. Magiere confided in Willow that the traveling circus would be coming to Bastok in the coming weeks to celebrate the Bastokan performance in the "conquest" rivalry. Willow didn't know what the rivalry was about but it didn't matter to her. The circus was coming and that's all she needed to know.

The worn grip of her fishing pole was comforting to Willow. It reminded her of all the times she and her father had gone fishing together as a child. That happened less and less as she got older. She liked to blame it on the guild and making him work longer and longer hours as he progressed up the ranks. When he wasn't working on his own commissions he was busy training or supervising the newer members of the guild. He seemed to have changed to her, or perhaps she was the one who was changing. Unhappy with those thoughts, she pushed them out of her mind.

Even though Willow only needed a few fish for her recipe, the several hours they spent on the cliffs netted them more than enough for dinner. It was more than enough for a week's worth of dinners. Willow had only caught one or two but she was always amazed at the relative easy with which Magiere caught fish. As soon as they began fishing, Magiere just started talking and reeling in fish as if the fishes' only purpose in life was to jump on Magiere's lures. The two had been so caught up in their ongoing conversation of cute neighborhood boys to notice that they were not alone.

Two squat creatures were watching them intently. Although the girls were short they still were taller by far than the two creatures observing them. The creatures wore masks which covered their entire faces to aid in their breathing. The tinted goggles and overall shape of the masks gave them a sort of whimsical appearance. The only humanoid feature that stuck out was pairs of pointed, hairy ears that jutted horizontally out of their heads. Both wore packs fashioned from various animal skins and looked to be stuffed to the brim with whatever goblins deemed important to store. One turned and spoke to the other in a harsh, guttural language then motioned towards the basket into which the girls were placing the spoils of the day. The other nodded and unsheathed a small dagger as they both crept over to the girls, hoping to catch them unaware.

Their plan worked and the approach went unnoticed by the girls. However, Magiere caught sight of the duo moments before they sprang their attack. "Goblins," she cried!

"Wha…," was all Willow managed to cry before she was struck on the back of the head. Her vision was nothing but blinding light followed by immense pain that threatened to rip her head in two. When she came to seconds later, she was lying face down on the ground and her hair had taken on an orange tint from the blood oozing from her wound. Through the dizziness, she looked over at Magiere and saw the one with the knife throw her friend to the ground while the other was rummaging through their things and making a pile of anything of value. When Magiere landed, the purse she had stolen had fallen out of her pockets, and the goblins eyed it greedily. The next image Willow saw burned into her memory and haunted her ever since; the goblin over Magiere plunged his dagger into her body. Magiere's eyes widened with disbelief. She opened her mouth to scream but no sound escaped. Willow watched as the light slowly started to drain from her friend's eyes.

"Skrecht nes tak!" said the goblin with the dagger. The other stopped his search and looked over at Willow. When he noticed that she was awake, he picked up the frying pan on the ground next to him and hurried over to finish her off.

The next few moments seemed like an eternity for Willow. Her vision had taken on a pink tint from the blood and tears that ran over her eyes. Through them she saw the goblin coming her way in slow motion, yet she seemed to move in real time. The anger and frustration at her inability to help her friend and herself stung more than bite or slap she had ever felt. The sight of Magiere's body with a dagger sticking out of her chest left a horrible, uneasy feeling in Willow's stomach. Slowly she forced her way to her feet. Through the pain, the dizziness and the queasy feeling she had in her stomach she felt an entirely new emotion. This hot feeling eradicated anything else in her body as it traveled from deep within until it filled her very being. It spread through her small frame like molten lava slowly making its way out from underneath the earth. As she got to her feet, all her fears, all her pain, and all her doubts left her body. All that was left was her rage. In an instant that was gone too. When she stood, her face was the very definition of serenity.

The air surrounding Willow began to heat up and fill with tiny orbs of light. Stray bits of energy crackled around her. It was as if she had woken from an extremely disturbing dream. She could remember the anger but no longer felt it. Yet, it was still there and tangible, as though she could pick it up and throw it, and so she did. Each time she directed the anger at the goblin lunging at her a new spark of fire would erupt. The goblin cried out in pain and shock at the turn of events but was powerless to do anything else. Over and over again she flung her rage, until the goblin was completely alight. The wailing sounds of anguish and smell of burnt flesh filled the air. Willow wanted to feel righteous and justified at taking vengeance for the loss of her friend, but in the span of those few seconds, it was impossible to feel anything, save for an intense desire to sleep. It engulfed her the longer she continued her onslaught. She tried to target the other goblin but the fatigue was overpowering. Eventually, she couldn't fight it off any longer and in the last few moments before she passed out, a scarlet flash filled her eyes and then nothing.

Willow awoke to find herself in bed with father sitting next to her in his workman's chair. She was safely at home but she had lost all sense of time. It was nighttime and in the candlelit room she examined her father sitting next to her. He appeared haggard, as if his clothes hadn't been changed in days. The creases of his face seemed to have twice the depth since the last time she saw him. For the briefest of moments, he stopped being her father and she saw him as he really was, an old, lonely man. "You should be dead twice over," he noted without a hint of emotion in his voice. "You've been asleep for 4 days now."

"W-What happened," she inquired but as she tried to move her head felt like it had been squeezed in a vice. She became aware of a wet feeling on her forehead. Upon investigation, a damp washcloth was the culprit. She looked about the room and noticed that she was lying on her father's bed. Magiere's form was curled up on her own bed. The slow, cyclical upheaval of her chest signaled that somehow she lived. "Magiere? How?"

"You were lucky. A passing red mage who identified himself only as Manu heard the commotion and came to your rescue. He dealt with the remaining goblin and revived Magiere before she died from her wound. He brought you both back to town. He then told me a very interesting tale in which you were able to fend off one of the goblins by chaining together fire spells and casting them at it."

"I… used _magic_?"

"The fire isn't the remarkable part. Any charlatan who knows a cantrip or two can evoke fire. Out of all of the elements, fire is by far the easiest to conjure; it's an apprentice spell. It's something almost fundamental in beings and emotions can bring it out. Fire responds most to anger. You could feel it, couldn't you, the burning sensation, like the blood in your veins boiling? That's how you were able to summon the flames.

"Like I said, the fire is unimportant. What _is_ important is the fact that you were able to chain your spells. That's a fairly advanced red mage technique—advanced, and dangerous. The drain you felt when you first cast the fire is normal. All magic deprives you of your mental stamina. It's not permanent and you will recover it naturally when you rest.

"Chaining is different from normal casting in that you forfeit a small amount of life force to make casting instantaneous. When you cast a spell normally, you must recite the incantations which will take time depending upon the complexity of the spell. However, there are times in a red mage's life when time is of the essence or could mean the difference between life and death. In order to gain this advantage, a red mage gives up a bit of life. No one is exactly sure what the tradeoff is. It could be minutes, months, or years for each use of the chainspell technique. The problem with finding out is that no one knows exactly when they're supposed to die, so it's impossible to know how much was forfeit. The other tenet is that red mage's often live harsh lives filled with combat. It's rare to find one that lives to old age as it is. Only through training are red mages able to get the most benefit from the least sacrifice. It's not unheard of for an untrained person to tap into the chainspell technique and forfeit the rest of their life force in the process thus rendering any benefit useless."

"What's a red mage?"

"Red magic is an amalgam of white and black magic. Red mages can cast restorative and protective spells like white mages and can channel destructive energies like black mages but it's in enhancing and enfeebling that the red mage truly shines. A red mage is a combat caster, equally adept at using a sword and casting a spell. Their most common yet powerful tactic is to magically augment themselves, their equipment and their companions while simultaneously debilitating their enemies. In this fashion, legendary red mages can take on swarms of beastmen and live to tell the tale. I can teach 

you to wield red magic. I _should_ teach you, so if something like this comes up again, you'll be more of a danger to your adversary than yourself. You come from a strong line and my daughter shouldn't need to rely on others to save her.

"Now that you've stumbled onto this, one thing is certain: your life has been shortened. Who knows by how much? I had hoped to keep you away from this. Had you grown up in San d'Oria, our homeland, you surely would have been a squire for one of the famous orders of knights there by now. Perhaps you would have shunned that as well and roamed the lands as a mercenary, an "adventurer". I think that freedom would be more to your liking. An adventurer's life is not one I would have chosen for you, but it's become more and more obvious as you've grown that your heart is filled with wanderlust. I've prayed to Altana that you would grow up to be more like your mother. But, there's too much of me in you. The day quickly approaches when you will leave me to go out and make your mark in the world. It would be irresponsible of me as your father to allow you to continue down this path alone and ignorant. Get some rest, little one. Be my little girl for just a few hours more. Tomorrow, we begin your training."


	2. First Encounter

**Chapter 2**

**First Encounter**

Willow smiled to herself as she remembered Magiere's reaction the next day. Magiere told her that just before she blacked out she saw Willow jump to her feet and in a matter of seconds she pointed at different parts of the goblin. Every time Willow pointed a new fire would jump from the end of her finger to the goblin. What seemed like forever to Willow had only taken a few seconds. Magiere also confided in her that the red mage was actually the owner of the purse she had stolen. He had somehow tracked her down. He was nice enough not to mention that part to her parents as long as she returned it. The day after she had awoken, her father took her out to train. She thought it was especially humorous that she ended up becoming his apprentice anyway, just not in goldsmithing. They went over the basics of red magic, and in between magic lessons her father reluctantly showed her how to properly use a sword. At first they only practiced proper footwork and posture. It was over six months before he allowed her to even grip a sword, even though it was only wooden.

Willow snapped out of her trance when she bit down on her sandwich once again. _What is this_, she asked herself. _A bone? What kind of idiot sends a sandwich for evaluation with a bone in it?_ She spit out the partially chewed sandwich and tossed the sandwich over to the chocobo. The chocobo sniffed at it and eagerly gobbled that down too. It wasn't nearly as harsh of a critic as Willow had to be. Willow stood up and retrieved a small, ornate wooden box from her saddlebags. She unclasped the locking mechanism and sifted through the various earrings inside. She grimaced as she could not find the one she was looking for until she noticed it was towards the bottom of the pile. It was an orange pearl earring that carried several enchantments on it. These enchantments would carry her voice to whoever was also wearing an earring created from the same shell.

She removed the earring from the case and put it on. Pressing her finger to the pearl, she spoke into the linkpearl. "Hello? Is anyone there?"

"Hello-Wellow," replied the childlike voice of a Tarutaru on the other end.

"Robinbin, is that you? It's me Willow. I'm looking for Piketo-Puketo. Is he there?"

"No-oh. He is busy-wizzy right now-wow."

"Well, tell him I said that Jahr Navrah failed, miserably. If she wants to pass her exam, next time she'd best remember that Mithra are the only ones that like to chew on bones."

"Okey-dokey!"

She then removed the earring and placed it back into the box. Willow paused for a moment to reflect on when she acquired it. She was visiting the Mithra homeland in Kazham for the first time. The boat she had to ride to get there was an old rickety ship that barely seemed seaworthy. The crew was made up of salty old sailors that looked about 100 years old. Her excitement at traveling somewhere new overcame her worries about the competence of the crew, though. When the boat arrived, she went through customs and ran to the nearest shop to browse all the goodies. The shop was a small hut held together by twine and roof was made of various thick jungle foliage tied together. The box was on a shelf of a store run by the feline being behind the counter. At first she thought of purchasing it for Magiere, but the longer she looked at it, the more she understood it would stay with her.

Once she thought of Magiere, it occurred to her that Magiere was extremely late. That sort of thing wasn't uncommon for her friend, though. Magiere could be absent-minded sometimes and simply lose track of time, especially in large crowds when others' pockets were filled with all sorts of wonderful things to discover and borrow. Willow reopened the box and retrieved another earring, this time one with a deep blue hue to it.

"Hello? Mag?" Her voice was greeted by silence. "Mag, are you there?"

Still no answer, but she decided to leave the earring in place, just in case her friend thought to put it on. At a loss for something to do, Willow decided to look about for something to pass the time. She looked over at the chocobo who had now stood up and was chasing some unseen prey that scampered into a hole in the ground. She then looked out into the fields below and remembered that the public rolanberry vineyards had a habit of getting infested with oversized berry grubs from time to time. The Jeunoan government would occasionally dispatch a few adventurers to clear them away. The pay wasn't all that great, but they got to keep the spoils. Cloth crafters paid good money for spools of crawler silk. If she couldn't practice her spells, then at least she could make some money, she figured.

Willow chased down the chocobo, who thought they were playing some sort of game and did its best to avoid being caught. She did appreciate how cute it was but her heart wasn't in playing with her rented companion. Her eye was on the rapier strapped to the side of the chocobo's saddle but whenever she would get close to the chocobo, the bird would move away.

"Stand still, you overgrown chicken!" she lamented. Finally, in a bit of frustration, she stopped chasing the bird and paused in one spot. She cleared her mind and started whispering an incantation. Willow's logical side kicked in and she stopped casting midway through the spell. She remembered that chocobos are supposed to be magical creatures that are highly resistant to spells like the binding spell she was in the process of casting. Superstitious adventurers spread rumors that bad things happen to people who cast spells at chocobos. Willow was far from superstitious, but she was never one to tempt fate. Instead, she searched the grounds until she found a small worm and held it up to show the chocobo. At once, it came running towards her and almost toppled her in its pursuit of the snack she offered. While it was momentarily distracted, Willow released the rapier and it's scabbard from the straps attaching it to the saddle then hooked it on the belt she was wearing then left the bird to find itself a new playmate. Now that she was properly armed, Willow made her way down to the nearest vineyard from her elevated position.

Once she was in close proximity to the vineyard, she reached over with her right arm and grasped the hilt of her rapier as she had done hundreds of times before. Today, however, Willow was acutely aware of all her actions, no matter how routine, and stopped to admire the sword she'd received from her father. It had been her mother's and her grandmother's sword and that's all he would tell her. Her gloved hand fit neatly underneath the sweeping array of steel rings that protected her hand and the knucklebow from strikes. Underneath the grip was old, dark leather covering the wooden handle of the hilt that was held in place by spun golden wires. The hilt was fitted with a jeweled, weighted pommel to offset the blade and balance the weapon. It was more than just decoration and had served on several occasions to knock a beastman or two unconscious. Slowly, Willow unsheathed her weapon. The sharp ringing of metal scraping against metal filled the air. The sound yanked another memory from deep inside to the present.

- - - - - -

"And thrust! " Upon her father's command, Willow lunged forward and pierced the training dummy directly in the chest. Her father had constructed it using spare bits of wood from around the house. The rest was scavenged by Willow. Her father chose a remote spot, outside of the city in the outlying North Gustaberg area with a space wide enough to allow ease of movement around a small ring he drew in the ground.

"Good! Take a break for a few minutes. Catch your breath. Drink something."

"Yes, papa, "she replied as she sped off for a drink of water. Regardless of his busy schedule with the guild, he forcibly took two hours off a day to spend time training her. That sacrifice meant that he wouldn't progress much further at the guild unlike some of the others there that could devote all their time to the craft. He never voiced a complaint to her, nor had she ever heard of him complaining to anyone else. To make use of the little time they had together, he put her through harsh, grueling training. It wasn't very often that he allowed her a moment's break, so she made sure to take advantage when he finally would. She darted to a nearby stream to fetch some water.

Two years had passed since she and Magiere were attacked by the goblins and the start of her subsequent training. In that time, she had learned the basics of various sword styles. Her father was currently teaching her the use of the rapier. It was a long thin blade that seemed fairly flimsy compared to the wider shortswords she had previously used. It was mainly meant for thrusting techniques but the dual edge of the weapon meant that it could be used for slashing if necessary. The style seemed to favor parrying then counterattacking, which meant that a shield was unnecessary, but her offhand felt empty since she was used to practicing with one. Of all the styles, she'd been exposed to, this one felt the most natural to her, the most graceful.

When she returned from getting her drink, the training dummy was nowhere to be seen. Her father stood before her, with his own rapier in hand.

"You've practiced enough against dummies. It's time to fight someone who'll fight back. The rules are simple. Magic is allowed but no blade enhancements. We fight until you can't go on any longer. En garde." It wasn't unusual for her to face off against her father, but every time she had done so, they had just used wooden weapons for safety purposes. The blade, flashing in the midday sun, was intimidating, even in the relative safety of a training environment.

Willow nodded, saluted, and then assumed the guard position. After her father responded in kind, he advanced towards her. She was mindful to keep the distance between them, as her father had instructed in those six long months of footwork drills. After feigning an attack and inducing her father to extend his blade she quickly beat it to the side and attempted to thrust into his shoulder.

"Where are you aiming? Don't worry about me. I can handle myself. Never hesitate; others won't be so easy on you." He warned as he easily parried her attack. His speed was frightening to her. Repeatedly she tried every tactic she knew to land a hit, but his defense was impenetrable.

"Are you ready?" He announced more than asked. In an instant, he covered the distance between them and extended his blade directly into her chest, but stopped short of running her though. The sword penetrated her skin just enough not to seriously wound her, but enough to let her know it was there. Willow cried out in pain and surprise that her father was able to move that way. In all her life she had never seen him in a fight, let alone hold a sword. She began to mentally cycle through the few spells she knew until she recalled her curing spell. She attempted to cast it to stop the bleeding from her chest wound but she was finding it quite difficult to concentrate mid-battle.

"Remember to keep up your defense if you want to try to cast mid-fight, " he cautioned as he attacked again. This time he beat Willow's blade out of the way and pierced her shoulder. Willow winced and stopped casting. It took tremendous effort for her to hold up her blade so she opted to open up the distance between them to regain her bearings. "Excellent use of space—good defensive tactic," he encouraged.

Once she had gotten a little space between them she tried casting her spell again. Her father noticed and closed the gap quickly before she could finish her spell. He attacked yet again, and this time Willow was prepared. She was able to parry most of the attack, but the momentum with which he came at her made it difficult to deflect. The edge of his blade tore her shirt and sliced at her skin leaving an intense, burning sensation on the outer portion of her bicep. Once again, she was unable to complete her spell.

Their session progressed in that fashion until finally Willow was able to fight and cast her spell. By the time she had cured herself she was bleeding from several wounds in various places all over her body. Her clothes were a bloody tattered mess. They could be mended but her blood would be impossible to wash out. She liked the idea of it, though. It would be a reminder to her to focus on her training more so she decided to keep and repair the outfit. Willow also had a practical reason for keeping them; she couldn't afford more clothes every time she would duel her father.

"This seems like a good point to break for the day. I have to return to the guild. I want you to practice your lunges and bladework for another hour before packing up and heading home. Do not dawdle too long in the area, though. The enchantments I put in place to keep us safe from the beastmen will be wearing off not too long after that. I should be home by nightfall—make sure dinner is ready and your chores are done by then."

"Yes, papa. I was thinking of making some roasted corn and grilled hare. "

"I look forward to it. I will see you in a few hours." He sheathed his rapier, turned and walked away. After a few steps, he turned around to face Willow again as if to say something, but only nodded his head. Once again, he turned away and walked back to town. It had occurred to him that the last time Willow had announced what she would make for dinner, she was ambushed by the goblins. Perhaps it was meant to be ominous but her father wasn't worried. He would never admit to her that when she went for her drink he had cast a haste spell on himself. He was quick indeed but it had been years since he'd wielded a sword. Also, Willow had taken to her training as if the sword were simply an extension of her arm. He needed the extra boost of speed for his rusty skills to keep up with her natural talent and youth. He'd made her proud that day.

Willow did as she was told and practiced her skills for the allotted time. At least, she practiced for a good portion of it. The bout with her father had worn her out and she needed to rest. She was still puzzled over how he was able to move so quickly. Willow comforted herself with the fact that he was older and more experienced at it than she was. However, as quick as he was, there were a few times when she felt like she could almost keep up so she was determined to do better next time. Snapping back from her reflections she reminded herself that she needed to be mindful of the time. The protection of her father's spells would fade soon and she needed to hurry back to town.

The curiosity within her built. She had never seen a "beastman" with the exception of the goblins that nearly killed her last year. However things were different now. She knew more magic and how to use a sword now in case she got into trouble. There would be no harm or danger if all she did was look from a distance while hiding. She packed up the training dummy and the other things they had brought with them and set them aside. Then, Willow set off to see if she could find a beastman.

She decided to get a better view of the area and climbed halfway up nearby Zegham Hill. It was from this vantage point that she was able to see a lot farther. Yet, she still wasn't able to see any beastmen. While scanning the area, the only things she saw was a caravan of merchant wagons pulled by chocobos, a few wild sheep, and a few tumbleweeds rolling through the wasteland that Bastokers call home. Then, in the distance, she noticed a small, unrecognizable creature. It was too far to make out with her bare eyes but she could see that it was traveling alone and it was on the path that led in the direction of the Palborough mines. She had heard the Galka in town speaking of the mines and how the beastman race known as the Quadav now occupied it.

The creature seemed to grow as it got closer. Willow could now make out the sharp beak and large tortoise-like shell on its back. It wore an odd sort of scarlet tunic over which it wore leather armor. The helmet it wore had a short plume along the middle from front to back. She supposed to the Quadav it was meant to appear menacing but in actually it simply looked as if the creature was wearing a boot brush on top of its helmet. When it got even closer, Willow could make out the finer details such as the jagged designs that were poorly embroidered into the tunic but her eyes were drawn to the large sword it carried on its back. The slow, lumbering creature was now passing directly underneath her position and she crouched down out of sight and waited for it to pass. She could hear the labored breathing and smell its foul breath. The moments seemed like hours to her. She was no longer curious. In fact she was feeling fairly scared at the prospect of being caught. The confidence Willow felt earlier evaporated as soon as she saw the hilt larger than her arm.

The Quadav passed by underneath and would have been completely oblivious to Willow's presence. However, it heard Willow's frantic breathing and slowly made its way up the hill. Her heart beat faster when she realized that it was making its way over to her. She didn't expect the slow, meandering creature to be able to move so quickly and it would be over her shortly. That was the second time that day she was had miscalculated someone's speed and this mistake could be a lot more costly than the first one. With only moments to prepare, she closed her eyes, cycled through her spells and cast her minor protection spell. After that, she unsheathed her rapier and began casting again. When she had finished casting, the blade shined a soft white color and surged with electricity. Random sparks emitted from it every so often. She opened her eyes just in time to see the Quadav towering over her. She couldn't believe she ever thought to herself that this thing was small.

The Quadav stood over her unsure what to think of the young, lanky girl standing in front of itself brandishing a sword as if she were looking for a fight. If she wants one, I'll give her one, it thought. It reached behind its back and pulled the greatsword from the sheath. Willow's eyes widened at the sight of a sword longer than she was tall and it was coming for her. With one powerful motion, the Quadav swung its weapon in a wide arc that surely would have rendered a tree in twain. Willow ducked under the attack and tried to jab at her opponent but the blade wouldn't penetrate the Quadav's natural armor. The only effect she had was shocking it with the blade spell she cast. The sparks of electricity surged over the Quadav and quickly dissipated. The spell didn't seem to have any effect other than angering it.

The Quadav swung its massive blade around effortlessly keeping Willow at a distance. She couldn't get close enough to use her rapier and even if she could, the rapier wasn't having any effect. Once, she got in close enough to try to lunge at its throat but the Quadav simply shifted its weight into her and knocked her onto her back several feet away. She just barely dodged the blade that followed her to the ground. Panic was starting to set in and for a moment she thought she might not make it. She tried to think of a spell she could use to her advantage but she was too terrified to think straight.

Sensing the advantage, the Quadav rushed her, raising its arms to bring down the final blow and finishing off its distracted opponent. The fog that covered Willow's mind melted away when she saw her opportunity for attack. Quickly rolling to the side as the creature started to bring down its arms, she thrust with all her might at her target. The blade met resistance then penetrated the skin underneath the Quadav's armpit. Howling in rage and pain, the Quadav swung at her and knocked her back yet again, stunning her in the process. It tried to remove the sword but it was in too deep. So, it simply broke it off and threw the rest at her.

Willow noticed that the Quadav had a hard time breathing now. She figured she must have punctured the lung. It was all over but the Quadav wouldn't accept defeat. Like a candle that flickers violently before going out, the Quadav simply went berserk, swinging and rushing at her. With a greater confidence in her survival, Willow was able to once again attempt to cast. She found a spell she always liked and began casting. The resulting effect was a veil of darkness covered the Quadav's eyes. Ordinarily this would have a debilitating effect, but the Quadav was already passed the point of caring where its sword landed. Panic started to creep in again when Willow noticed that her spell worked yet failed simultaneously.

Again, she began rummaging through her spells trying to think of something, when she decided to try one she never put much stock in. She began to cast at her near-dead assailant, and immediately, its feet stopped moving. More howls and shouts in some unknown language filled the air when the Quadav tried to will its legs to move but the efforts were futile. Unable to move, unable to attack, the Quadav just gave up. Willow knew that if she left it there, in the current state it was in, it would slowly die, but not after experiencing a lot of pain. Although she was the one who caused it the pain in the first place and it would have been more than happy to kill her, she wrestled with the idea of killing it herself or letting nature take its course. The more humane approach would have been to finish it, but she couldn't do it. Just before she turned to walk away, her father's voice startled her.

"Do it. Do not leave her like that. "

"Her?"

"She is a scout from the Palborough mines sent out to report on Bastokan troop movements, and she would not hesitate to kill you. Finish it, so we can go home."

"I-I cannot."

"It is the right thing to do."

Willow stared at the Quadav in front of her. She had fallen to her knees using her sword as a crutch. Willow recalled another spell and cast it at the Quadav in front of her. In moments water condensed from the air surrounding the Quadav and swarmed its head. Water filled the remaining working lung. It grasped at its neck, unable to understand why it was drowning on dry land, before it fell over motionless on the ground. Moments later, Willow, eyes welling with tears, fell over as well and promptly vomited.

"The next time you go out hunting for Quadav, make sure you get signet from the gate guards so Bastok can get the credit for the kill." Her father's voice had a quiet fury she had never heard before, not even when she destroyed the expensive kiln. Then he reached down, grabbed hold of her slender ear, and pulled her back to town.


	3. The Road Ahead

**Chapter 3**

**The Road Ahead**

Willow absent-mindedly cut down any crawlers she found. They didn't present any challenge for her so it was easy to get lost in her thoughts. On the way home that day, her father confided that he had forgotten his pass to show the guards upon his return to Bastok. When he returned to the campsite to retrieve it, everything had been packed up but there was no Willow to be found. Knowing his daughter all too well, he went off in pursuit of her. The sounds of the battle drew him to their position and he'd arrived to see her doing poorly.

The portion he didn't tell her was that he had been tempted to jump into the fray and help, but he wanted to see if she would be able to overcome her attacker. When it appeared that she might not be able to, he was about to make his move until he saw her roll to the side and sink her blade into the Quadav. Pride and sympathy filled him as he knew how horrible she would feel at taking her first life.

Presently, she automatically went through the process of harvesting and unraveling the crawler cocoons. When it was over, she had enough spools of silk thread to net a nice profit which would cover her food and travel expenses for a while.

"Willow, you there?" came a voice over the linkpearl.

"Mag, where have you been? I've been waiting for you all day!"

"Sorry, Will, the job was a little trickier than I thought it would be. Then, on the airship ride back from Kazham, this creepy guy kept staring at me! At first I thought he was going to ask me out so I avoided him, but he just kept following me. I've just pulled back in to Port Jeuno, so I'm going to lose him before meeting up with my contact. Shouldn't be much longer now. See you in a bit!" Willow's eyes rolled when she wondered at the amount of trouble Magiere was about to get into. Her thoughts were silenced by a grumbling that radiated outward from her stomach.

"Wait! Stop by the auction house and get me some food; I'm starving!" Willow pleaded but there was no response. The few bites of salmon sandwich did nothing to appease her angry stomach. _Maybe there's something in my backpack, something I overlooked,_ she thought to herself. Willow always had a habit of packing away a little something extra. As an adventurer, things had a way of not going according to plan so she learned the hard way to keep extra food handy. However, before she could do so, she would have to track down that chocobo yet again.

Willow made her way back up to her previous resting area, dreading another game with the chocobo on an empty stomach. Fortunately, she returned to find the chocobo simply seated upright, eyes closed and gently snoring next to the tree it had been calling home for the past few hours. Willow stopped and took a mental picture of the adorable sight in front of her.

The chocobo dozed peacefully now, but Willow knew that if awoken it would bounce around with more energy than Willow had patience to deal with at the moment. Closing her eyes for a moment she recalled just the spell for this situation and cast it. Slowly, she walked up to the chocobo, yet her feet made no noise along the ground. Although her sword and scabbard jiggled with every step, they made no sound either.

Once Willow was alongside the sleeping beast, she carefully undid the knots that held her backpack in place and gently hoisted it up and off the beast's strong back. At once, the bird opened its eyes, snapping its head in Willow's direction. Frightened and confused over how someone had gotten so close to her while she slept, the chocobo kicked in Willow's direction and ran off.

Still holding the backpack over her head, the kick caught Willow squarely in the chest, sending her and the backpack flying in two different directions. She sailed through the air a good distance before she landed hard on her rump several feet away. Shaking the wooziness from her head as she got to her feet, she then rubbed her backside and scanned around for the backpack. Her joy at finding it a few seconds later was shattered when she noticed the contents of her well-packed backpack strewn all over the grass.

"Chocobos…" Her voice trailed off before even starting her rant. Willow set about the business of picking up her things when she was delighted to find some ginger cookies wrapped neatly on the ground. They were good for a nice boost of energy but she was hoping for something with a little more substance. _It's better than nothing,_ she told her stomach. With a cookie in her mouth, she walked around picking up her things.

A short distance away, she noticed the glint of metal catching the sun. The reflection stung her eyes momentarily so she dropped everything else to investigate. Taking a few steps in its direction, she identified the trinket immediately. The pendant's design was a pair of golden wings surrounding a circular, purple crystal. All followers recognized it as the symbol of the Dawn Goddess, Altana.

It reminded her of something her father would have made in his workshop and she kept it close to her at all times even though she'd found better, more useful things to wear around her neck. She had received the pendant long ago from a priest as thanks for performing a service for the San d'Orian Cathedral. Holding the trinket in her strong yet delicate hands, she became lost in the tumultuous tides of her memory yet again.

- - - - - -

"I am confused, Papa. If we can raise people from the dead, then why did Mama have to die?" Willow shouted at her father. She was angry at him for all the years she could have spent with her mother if her father was able to raise the dead, years he robbed from her and her mother.

"It is not that simple. Yes, I have the ability to raise people from the dead but there are limitations to the raise spell. The spell only works on the recently dead. Any deterioration of the body ruins the spell. And, the spell doesn't work on those who've willingly sacrificed their life or died of natural causes. Since your mother died giving birth do you, she falls into the latter two categories.

"San d'Oria, where you were originally born, is not as technologically advanced as our new home Bastok. Had you been born here, surely she would have lived thanks to advances in medicine here. As it stands, it is not entirely unheard of for an Elvaan woman living in San d'Oria to die in childbirth.

"She is buried there on the hallowed grounds of the San d'Orian Cathedral, if you wish to visit and pilgrimage to the cathedral some day. However, I cannot go with you because of my duties here at the guild."

Willow's pain had subsided a little from the explanation her father gave, but she still felt the pangs of disappointment over not getting to know the mother she never met. Her mind was made up before he even suggested the visit. She knew she had to see her homeland for herself, and pay her respects to her departed mother. Desperate as she was to leave, she was in need of a method to finance the trip. She scrounged for months performing odd jobs and fishing in between her studies and daily training.

Her father acknowledged, after their most recent session, that after six years of training together she was nearing the end of what he could teach her. She had a modest, but capable repertoire of magic spells at her disposal and her skills with a blade were the envy of any young man her age. Whenever any one of them thought he had what it took to join the Iron Musketeers, one of Bastok's elite forces, he would challenge her. When she would inevitably beat them, they knew they were in need of more training. She was as ready as she'd ever be to face the outside world.

Willow went to Magiere's house to say goodbye the day before her departure. The sounds of Magiere's father yelling at her for some inane reason could be heard from a distance before she was even close to their house and standing beside her best friend's front door, he could be heard as though she were in the room with them. He was yelling at her over various things but it seems what set him off was a plate Magiere had broken. Willow could tell he was drunk again. From the sound of it, Magiere yelled back as good as she got, calling her father worthless and a waste of air.

Suddenly, the door flung open and knocked Willow to the ground. Out ran Magiere, her face covered in tears. "Ow!" cried out Willow.

"Sorry, didn't see you there," Magiere somehow managed to say through the lump in her throat. Her hand swept by her face and tried to cover up her tears then reached down to pick up her friend.

"What was it now?"

"Oh, I broke a plate when I was doing the dishes and since he just got home from drinking and not catching anything all day he was mad. So, he went off about how we can't afford new plates and how I'm such a burden, blah, blah, blah. How can I be a burden if my fishing is the only thing keeping this family running? I swear, every day it's something else with that man. I can't wait to be out on my own, and then he'd see he's lost without me."

"I came to talk to you about something, but not here. Let's go somewhere else." Taking Magiere by the hand, Willow led her off in the direction of Port Bastok. Since that's where her father did all his "fishing" Magiere hardly went there. They stopped along side the fence where they could watch the arrival and departure of the airships headed for the city of Jeuno.

"I do not know how to put this so I will just come right out and say it. I am leaving tomorrow."

"WHAT?" Magiere's eyes began to fill with tears again.

"I am not leaving for good. It will only be for a short while, maybe a month or two. I am going to San d'Oria to visit my mother and see the cathedral there but I will be back once I am done."

"Take me with you! I can't stay here alone. Please, don't leave me alone."

"I would love for you to come with me but I am sorry Mag. This trip is going to be a little dangerous as it is. It would not be wise to add to it."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Magiere's skin grew hotter at the perceived insult.

"Well, from what Papa tells me it is a harsh world out there. You have not had any sort of martial training like I have so you will not be able to handle yourself. That, and… you… tend… to get in trouble quite a bit."

"But I've been better lately. Please, please, take me with you. I can't stay here with _him,_" Magiere grabbed onto Willow hoping to tag along if only she held her friend tight enough. Not being able to hold it in any longer, Magiere started sobbing into her friend's chest.

Willow held her friend close and let her cry. Although she didn't want to admit it to her friend, she really wanted to take this trip alone. She wanted to test herself against the possible dangers she would come across out on the open road. She ran her fingers through her friend's long brown hair and did her best to assuage Magiere's grief. When Magiere finally let up a little, Willow leaned in and whispered, "I am sorry. I cannot take you with me."

The words cut Magiere to the bone. She detached herself from Willow before screaming, "Fine!" She then slapped Willow as hard as she could before running off.

Willow stood by the fence for a long while. Airships came, dropped off their motley crew of passengers, picked up others, and then made timely departures. Still she remained and so did the sting of Magiere's slap. She could almost make out the feeling left by each individual finger. Since the day they met each other at the auction house when they were little girls, neither had raised a hand to the other in anger. Willow sat down on a nearby bench, stifling the lump in her own throat, before surrendering to her emotions altogether.

The next morning, after Willow had packed up her belongings she was ready to say goodbye to her father. She scanned around the house one last time. Willow eyed the locked chest curiously, as it was the only spot in the house that she wasn't allowed access to, or even expected to dust. She smiled softly at the piles of various books she had to read in lieu of a proper education. While they were not as bad off as some of the Galka living in Bastok, they certainly weren't upper class. They weren't even middle class—they didn't even have a moogle. But they did just fine on their own. The end was a long time coming, though. The tiny place she called home for 17 years was no longer big enough for her.

Her father had taken off early in the morning; she had supposed that he just had something to take care of down by the guild. She wished she had woken up when he left so they could have exchanged goodbyes. Still, she wasn't planning on being gone forever, just long enough to get to San d'Oria and back. Even then, that was the first and longest time she'd be on her own. By her estimates, it would take several weeks of walking to get there. It would be faster if she could just take a chocobo, but she didn't have a license.

When the last of things were stored in a backpack she'd recently purchased with money she'd scrounged, she made her way to the door. Just as she was about to open the door, it swung open, and in walked her father. "Good. You have not left yet, " he said.

"Just barely. I was about to step off. Where did you run off to this morning? More duties at the guild demand your attention?"

"No. If you must know, I was getting a few things ready for your departure. First, I stopped off at the Department of Defense and registered you as a Bastokan adventurer under the name "Willow". Some adventurers take on a name they think is intimidating or out of the ordinary, but I think your given name will do just fine. Now, when you see one of the Iron Musketeers out on their posts they shall be able to cast signet upon you. I will leave that for them to explain. Then I stopped off for some magical maps you will need and some other emergency items. Finally, I stopped by the blacksmith guild and got this for you. I called in a favor from Hugues and he made this a few weeks ago. It was supposed to be a present for completing the training. Now, it seems it is a farewell gift. Remember to keep it oiled."

Her father held up a rapier and scabbard. He unsheathed it and handed it to Willow for inspection. She held the blade in her hands, bouncing it lightly to test the weight of it. The blade itself was about 3 feet long with a double edge and polished to a high shine. The grip of the weapon was protected by a bell guard and balanced by a thick pommel.

While she admired the sword, her father pulled various miscellaneous things from his knapsack. "These maps will show your present location and help you locate others. I also have a few of these potions," he held up two vials of semi-clear liquid, "in case you run into trouble out on the road. And finally, this is a last resort item." He unraveled a scroll with a spell she didn't recognize. "It may be a bit complex for you to understand now, but if things look bleak or you just feel like coming home, simply read it and it will return you in an instant."

She now owned her own sword. She smiled inwardly at the thought. All of this generosity was certainly uncharacteristic of her father. He had always been so frugal to make ends meet when she grew up. Now it seems he spent a small fortune just for her. When she handed back the sword, she tackled her father with a hug.

"Oh, Papa, I thought you did not want this for me. Why have you been so generous? I never would have thought you would, or _could_, train me and now all this?"

He grabbed her shoulders pushed her back to arm's distance and looked her straight in the eye, "The fact of the matter is that _I did_. However, your mother had wished that you would grow up without having to worry about the threat of war and battle constantly looming over your head. I did not understand her at first, and it was point of contention. Battle and fighting has been the cornerstone upon which Elvaan honor is built. You could say it is what we are bred for. But, all these years spent living in peace, sleeping in a real bed and working as a goldsmith in Bastok have shown me why your mother was right. I could tell you why she was until I am blue in the face, but it is something you have to find for yourself."

"Now, let us be off, " he said and led the way to the Bastok Market gate to South Gustaberg. Before reaching the gate, he led her on a quick detour. "One final thing, you cannot start a journey as perilous as the one you plan on undertaking in a housedress, so we need a quick change of clothes."

Before them was the door to Brunhilde's, a shop for various sets of armor. She and Magiere always used to look in the window and talk about which ones they wanted. Now it seemed that Willow would finally get her chance. Her father handed over a slip of paper to the middle-aged woman behind the counter. "Ah, Nouvalmille, yes, I have your order ready. It came in several days ago. Young lady, please step over here." Brunhilde directed Willow behind a dressing screen and began to help her don her new armor. It was strange for Willow to hear her father's real name; she was always used to calling him "Papa". Nouvalmille simply strolled about, admiring the craftsmanship of the other armors hanging from the walls and displayed on the shelves.

When Willow emerged from behind the dressing screen she was outfitted in leather armor made from the highest quality lizard skins Brunhilde had. The armor was snug and form-fitting for ease of movement. It almost felt like a second skin to Willow. The final touch was the traveler's cloak made from matching lizard skin, which Brunhilde placed on her shoulders.

"Now you're ready. Thank you Brunhilde, the armor is exceptional. Good day." With that, they both departed the store. The gate wasn't much further down and Willow could see it from the 

doorway. Standing watch and checking identification was a giant Galka in a suit of mythril armor. He was an imposing figure and Willow supposed that's why he was stationed there at the gate.

"That is Rabid Wolf. He may look intimidating but he is a good soul. Go up and show him these," he said while passing over her credentials, "and ask him about signet. One last thing: The San d'Orian-born Elvaan are somewhat snobbish, even to their own kind if they're not from San d'Oria. Even though you were born there, you were raised here. That is something they will not like in you. Keep your dealings with them short and do not draw undue attention to yourself. This is where I must leave you. I will see you when you return from your journey."

She waved goodbye to her father. He simply nodded and walked off. Her heart sank when she thought of Magiere. Willow had wished her friend could be there to see her off but knew Magiere would need some time to cool off. She told herself that she would pick something up from San d'Oria for Magiere and tell her all about her adventures when she got back. She snapped back from her thoughts when enormous Galkan Iron Musketeer in front of her spoke.

"Yes? What can I help you with today, miss?"

Willow held up her credentials and stammered, "I-I would like to know about 'signet' please."

"Ho ho, a first timer? Once the outward aggression between the 3 nations came to an end, the Duchy of Jeuno came up with the idea of 'conquest'. It was a way for each nation to expand territories without direct conflict with each other. The point is to drive out beastmen in the region. Whichever nation drives out the most, can claim temporary ownership of the region. In this way, the spirit of friendly competition is fostered between the three nations while at the same time driving back the beastmen hordes.

"Signet is an enchantment which magically tallies the number of beastmen you defeat. Bastok encourages all adventurers like yourself to receive signet before venturing out of the city. We had first place in our grasp but it escaped us. We must step up our efforts. Would you like signet, miss?"

Willow nodded and Rabid Wolf cast the spell upon her. She didn't feel any different nor could she perceive any aura about her like she could with some of the other spells. If the spell had any effect, she didn't know, but if it helped out her home town she was glad to put forth the effort. She simply smiled at the towering Galka, took one last look around, and then stepped through the gates.


	4. New Friends, Old Enemies

**Chapter 4**

**New Friends, Old Enemies**

Willow finally managed to gather up her belongings and stow them neatly back into her backpack. Her chest hurt where the chocobo's kick landed but it was nothing she couldn't bear. Throughout her time as an adventurer she had endured much, much worse. The ginger cookies she found did their best to tide her over for a bit, but she knew she would get hungry for something meatier. The salmon sub was long gone down the chocobo's gullet. She probably could have stomached that; she had eaten worse before but not any time recently — not since her time at the Culinarian Guild.

The agreed upon meeting time had long since come and gone. The day hadn't gone anything like she'd planned and so Willow was ready to head back to town. The only problem she faced now was finding to where her rented friend had run off. Tracking the chocobo down wouldn't be too difficult of a challenge but with its swiftness of foot, it was probably halfway back to Jeuno by now.

Her stomach didn't growl so much as it roared. It begged for appeasing. Angry at her friend's routine tardiness, Willow decided to try her again to let her know she was on her way back as soon as she found an early dinner, unless Magiere was already on her way out.

"Mag? Are you there Mag?"

Nothing.

Willow felt mentally weak and didn't think she would be able to summon the strength to cast her spell for the return voyage home until something warm was in her tummy. She resigned herself to the fact that she would have to find her own meal out there in the "wild." It wasn't anything new to her but nowadays she preferred to do her cooking with the proper equipment. She hadn't even brought any spices.

Thinking over the wildlife in the area, Willow attempted to narrow her search for prey. One by one, she rejected each one until it occurred to her that she hadn't had a rarab in quite a while. Though they aren't native to the Rolanberry Fields, rarabs do show up on occasion. With their long ears and large hind legs, they could be relatives of rabbits. The only difference between the two is that rarabs have never been domesticated. The choice was made and Willow set off to track one down.

The hunt proved more difficult than she had thought it would be and she had nearly given up when she found fresh tracks. Tracking it was much easier thanks to her short stint as a ranger in Windurst to help cover the costs of cooking and magic lessons. Once she came upon her helpless prey, she recalled her sleep spell and cast it on the poor animal. From that point, all she had to do was walk up, take the small dagger tucked into her boot, and dispatch the creature.

Using her dagger to prepare the rarab, she immediately thought of the first time she met an old friend. He had offered to share his rarab with her, and maybe if he would have been just a bit nicer, she would have accepted…

- - - - - -

The first few days were spent walking through the rocky, barren terrain that made up South Gustaberg. The monotony of her journey was broken at first by the few beginner adventurers training outside of the city and various small towns outside the capitol. The close proximity of the city gates was a relative comfort to them, but the farther she got from Bastok, the fewer and farther in between was the times she ran into others.

Towards the end of the middle of the fourth day, she looked on her map for a place her feet could find respite. Her throat felt as dried up as her surroundings. Her father had been kind enough to mark her map with all the spots she could find fresh drinking water throughout the Gustaberg region. Though, it was obvious he hadn't traveled in quite a while as a few of the locations were nothing more than dried up wells. Finding a spot to rest with a working well, she began digging through her pack for something to eat. She had packed various dried meats and such since fresh foods wouldn't last long under the hot sun.

The sky had already started to redden and the sun cast long shadows. Willow figured that spot was close enough to the border of North Gustaberg. She decided to make camp there for the night and would get up early the next morning and cross then. She set about gathering what few kindling she could find and tracing the outline for her camp. She then cast a spell which would keep her and her fire out of sight.

When she had unpacked her things to set up her camp, Willow noticed a leather pouch that she didn't pack. It was towards the bottom of her pack and had escaped her attention until now. Lifting it up, she felt the heavy weight of it and peered inside. The shine of metal caught her eye and she reached in. Willow pulled out coin after coin—all told, she counted five thousand pieces of gil. No wonder her father had snuck the pouch in her belongings. After all he had bought her, there was no way she would accept half a year's salary from him too. She smiled inwardly at the gesture, and missed her father that much more. After eating her meal in silence, Willow prepared her things for the next day's journey, made herself comfortable then went to bed.

All went according to her plan the next day, and she spent most of the morning walking. The empty terrain of North Gustaberg was just as desolate as South Gustaberg, but at least she was able to stop off at the Bastokan outpost there. She spent some of the gold on various supplies and a real meal then continued on her journey.

Midway through the day, the sounds of a caravan reached Willow from behind her. She turned around to watch as two medium-sized, covered wagons, each pulled by two chocobos, was approaching from the south along the path she was treading. The lead wagon was being driven by an overweight fellow with graying hair and a matching beard. He was dressed in expensive looking fabrics and had an air of arrogance about him. The chocobos pulling the wagon also appeared to be a little wide around their midsections as well.

"You there! Are you an adventurer?" He pointed at Willow.

"Me? Well, I suppose I am."

"My name is Sebben Von Heinrich. How about I make you a deal: I'll give you a lift as far as you're headed if you'll provide security for me and my, uh, wares."

"Where are you headed?" Willow did her best to keep the happiness over not walking out of her voice.

"I'm going to Jeuno to make my fortune. Are you going there too? It always seems like every adventurer is going to Jeuno these days."

"I am headed to San d'Oria."

"Ah, yes. I should have guessed. Well, you're hired. Hop on. I'll take you as far as partway through the Konschtat Highlands. From there, you can go on your way, and I'll go on mine."

"My name is Willow Raulemant. Pleased to make your acquaintance," she said and hopped on the wagon. _The ride would shave a few days time off my walking,_ she thought to herself_._ She was thrilled at the prospect of her very first mercenary job, while Sebben was thrilled to hire a temporary underling for free.

The first thing Willow noticed about her new employer was his stench. He smelled of sweat and dirt. There was another scent mixed in, as though he tried to mask his overpowering odor with perfume. It wasn't working. Try as she might, she could not get used to the smell so she to put it out of her mind by focusing her attention on the desolate, yet oddly scenic, view. She then decided to put her energy into looking professional by scanning the horizon looking for possible threats. Looking at the tall hills made of jagged, orange rock surrounding them, she wondered if Sebben could really tell she was just a rookie. If he could, she couldn't tell and she wasn't about to tell him.

Sebben prattled on and on about things Willow cared little about. He discussed his plans for cornering certain markets but was careful not to divulge too many secrets for fear of giving away everything to a prospective competitor. Willow smiled and nodded. After several hours of hearing him speak, she wished she was walking alone again. It was late afternoon when they'd crossed over the bridge in North Gustaberg signaling their close proximity to the Highlands' border.

"We'll stop for the night shortly after we cross into the Highlands. Hopefully, things'll stay as quiet as they've been. It seems as if you're good luck for us, Willow. By now, the guys I normally hire have fended off a Quadav attack or two."

His voice snapped Willow out of her scanning. _Guys? How many of us are there, _she asked herself. The rocky hills seemed to crowd and squeeze in around them the closer they got to the Highlands. Eventually the hills gathered together in front of them forming a wall of rock, leaving only a lone grassy path in the cracks just wide enough for them to pass. The grass came as a surprise to Willow since the Gustaberg region's soil wasn't rich enough to sustain any plant life other than the occasional stubborn weed.

Before entering the pass, the caravan approached a solitary Galka outfitted in an iron breastplate and matching regalia. In his armor he was almost the spitting image of Rabid Wolf, the Galka she spoke to before leaving town, except for his short white hair. He stood guard beside a tall pole with a long, flowing banner that displayed Bastok's insignia. She saluted him as the caravan passed him—he absently stared at her without returning the gesture.

The wagons proceeded into the narrow pass before them which meant they would be inside the area known as the Konschtat Highlands. There was little room for maneuvering the wagons; it was as if the rock was threatening to swallow the wagons whole. Willow feared that if they were attacked from above, there would be little chance of retaliating so she kept her eyes skyward at the cliffs above. The path wound through the solid rock until finally it opened up into a small open field. It appeared to be as good a spot as any to camp but the caravan pressed onward.

"What is wrong with that spot?" Willow asked.

Sebben eyed her curiously for a moment, then smiled, eager to show his superior experience, "It's a trap waiting to happen. A few years back I learned that one firsthand when my entire shipment was stolen from me at swordpoint. There's nowhere to run once you're in there so it's easy to get surrounded."

Willow nodded and cursed inwardly at herself for showing how green she was. A short while later, the sun had set yet the caravan still continued on. "Just a bit further," Sebben noted.

The rocky pass started to widen and before long, the pass opened up into a rolling, grassy plain. In the growing darkness it was hard to make out much else but Willow could plainly see large blobs that could have been small hills or towers in the distance. Shortly after exiting the narrow pass, Sebben pulled the reigns and the chocobos stopped.

"We'll stop here for the night and head on out first thing in the morning." Sebben then grabbed the pearl on his ear and spoke yet no words could be heard escaping his mouth. Willow wondered what he had said but the sounds of people dismounting the wagon behind her indicated that he had given the command to make camp for the night. Both of them hopped off the wagon and Willow took a few steps away from camp to survey the area quickly looking for any sign of threat.

"Hey, whatcha lookin' at?" asked a voice behind her.

"Nothing, just keeping an eye out," she replied without looking at the speaker.

"So, you're the other adventurer we picked up earlier. Hi, my name is Vincent." Willow stopped her search to look at the owner of the voice. In front of her, stood a dark-haired, Hume male with his hand outstretched towards her. He was tall, yet Willow was nearly as tall as he was, and his face was a tangled mess of hair that refused to gather into any sort of beard. He wore a thin leather coat over which was arranged a series of overlapping bronze scales. His leggings were also covered in scales and he looked like a giant metal fish that had just learned to breathe air and walk about on land. The dancing light of the campfire that was just starting to burn gave the illusion that he gave off a faint glow.

She removed her helm, looked him in the eyes, and shook his hand, "I am Willow. Nice to meet you."

"Right back at you," he added. "Listen, I don't know about you but I'm starvin'. I need to eat. You need to eat. Let's eat together."

"Excuse me?"

"Be back in a flash." He said, ignoring her response and ran off into the surrounding darkness. She couldn't see him, but strained her ears for any sounds she could make out in the direction he ran. Minutes passed, and then she heard a mechanical click, followed by the whistle of an arrow cutting its way through the air. Seconds later, the high-pitched yelp of some poor animal's death cry rang out.

Vincent returned to the camp hoisting the spoils of his hunting trip: a small rarab. It hung loosely as he held it up by its powerful hind legs. He smiled at Willow as though he'd just taken down some ferocious beast. "This should do nicely. I bagged it—you clean it," he announced and threw the rarab at Willow.

Willow caught it reflexively, before dropping the carcass on the ground. Since she was unsure how to react to Vincent she just decided not to press the issue. It was much too late and she was mentally fatigued from being on guard all day.

"I do not think so," Willow said in an acidic tone. "Sebben mentioned somewhere in his hours of rambling that there were plenty of provisions for us to eat." Just then, the tantalizing aroma of the food being cooked in the campfire wafted over towards them. "I do not think a man like Sebben misses many meals or eats anything less than the finest cuisine. In fact, I think I shall go see what is on the menu."

Vincent's puzzled expression amused Willow. _Maybe he really expected me to eat with him_, she contemplated. The thought amused her after the fact. She walked away, leaving him and his dinner to their own devices.

She made her way to the fire and noticed two others beside Sebben that she hadn't met before. A large, muscular figure with his back towards her was stirring the cauldron that hung over the fire. The other was a small, child-like figure that barely came up to the calf of the massive figure next to her. She cheerfully hummed a tune while getting some bowls ready for the stew that slowly boiled above her. Both were dressed in an odd sort of garish uniform that was vaguely reminiscent of Sebben's fine clothing, though nowhere near as nice. It gave her the impression both were permanent employees of Sebben. Both of them looked in Willow's direction when she got closer.

"Hello, young miss. You must be the other adventurer the boss told us about, Willow. Pleased to make your acquaintance. I'm Wandering Ox and my small friend here is Pameme."

"Hello! Nice to meetaru you," said the small Tarutaru happily.

After greeting both, Willow's mouth began to water at the smell of the delicious stew. "What is for dinner?"

"Mutton stew. Fresh from Windurst. Boss has been on a kick lately. This is all we've had for about a week now, " muttered Wandering Ox. "Would you pass out the bowls, Pameme?"

Pameme went around the group and handed out the bowls and other utensils. "Remember thataru time we ate nothing but dhamel pies for a montharu? Yecch!"

"I take it Sebben does this sort of thing often, then?"

"Unfortunately," lamented Wandering Ox.

The mismatched crew sat down to enjoy their hearty, if repetitive, dinner. Being that it was Willow's first time dining on it, she absolutely savored the meal and thought it insane anyone would ever get tired of it. A short while later, Vincent returned, picking his teeth with a small dagger as he approached, then took a seat next to Pameme.

"Have a bowl, Vincent. I had it shipped in from directly from the Culinarian guild—cost a pretty penny too. It's simply divine, " invited Sebben.

"No thanks. In my line of work, I don't trust meals I don't prepare myself. Besides, the rarab I had earlier was hearty—enough for two even, " he added, glaring at Willow.

Willow avoided his glance while the reference was lost on the others. Throughout the meal, Sebben rambled on once again about his plans once he would arrive in Jeuno. The others would knowingly nod at each other in mock agreement with his plans. It was through these glances that Willow became aware of Vincent's lingering stares in her direction. Once she would look at him, he would turn away and pretend to be in deep concentration over Sebben's entrepreneurial endeavors. The stares bore into her, eating away until the only thing that remained was an unfamiliar, uncomfortable feeling. The half-eaten bowl in front of her lost all flavor, and chewing became a chore.

"It's not to your liking, Willow?" chimed Sebben, noticing her effort to eat. "I suppose I can't really blame you. It's something of an acquired taste, really."

"I am sorry. I am just… full. I just did not want to be rude."

"Nonsense, my dear. You put forth a valiant effort. As it stands, it's almost time for bed. I'll leave the watch setup to you professionals. I think I'll retire for the evening."

Sebben hopped into the rear wagon and pulled the canvas flap down, leaving the other four alone. The four of them sat around the campfire for a moment without stirring. No one dared disturb the absence of sound left in the wake of the hour of Sebben's business meanderings.

Wandering Ox's voice shattered the silence first. "I'll take first watch, followed by Willow, then Pameme, and last Vincent." The others meekly nodded in honest approval and slowly stirred to prepare themselves for bed. Willow wished to herself that she knew the spell her father used to protect their training areas from unwanted guests. Then, at least, she'd get a full night's rest. The only one she knew wasn't big enough for the area. _It's not so bad. At least I can finally sleep, not to mention get away from Vincent._ She slipped into the other wagon, removing her armor in favor of a more comfortable night gown, and closed her eyes to welcome her dreams.

The sharp sounds of metal clanging against metal roused Willow from her slumber. "Willow! On your feet, we've got visitors!"

Willow was on her feet and out of the wagon with her rapier in the blink of an eye. Her still-drowsy eyes drank in the view before her. The campfire had spread beyond its rocky boundaries. Wandering Ox was surrounded by several tiny-by-comparison goblins and flanked by a few more aiming crossbows at him. Several bolts covered his body in various places, dripping blood where the projectiles had found their mark. Vincent was running towards the goblin firing line brandishing a large, dual-edged axe and his mouth poured out every sort of obscenity Willow had ever heard and quite a few she hadn't. Even little Pameme was out running around and casting protection spells on everyone and curing spells to keep the Galka going while avoiding incoming fire.

Willow glanced around at the others and noticed that each of them was dressed and ready to fight. Inwardly, she regretted getting into her nightgown and made a mental note to always stay prepared out in the "field." However, her regret boiled off when the memory of her own goblin experience as a child seethed within her. Taking a brief moment to enchant her blade, she charged forward.

Wandering Ox was holding his own against the five goblins around him. His powerful fists delivered punch combo after combo and knocking them back but the ones further back firing on him kept him from making progress in fighting them off. Seeing that he was able to handle them, Willow ran past him on her way to help Vincent but not before she ran one of the goblins through with her sword. Sparks danced off his body as she pulled her sword out then continued onward.

"AHHHH," cried out Sebben. Willow hadn't seen him but the sound came from the other wagon where he set up for the night. Once she ran by, Willow saw Sebben clasping his chest where a bolt struck. "Pameme, look after Sebben!" she shouted over the chaos of the battle.

The Tarutaru hobbled over as quickly as her small legs would take her. After a quick survey of the mess before her, she proceeded to pull on the bolt but the barbed tip prevented the extraction. Sebben howled in pain at her attempts to pull out the bolt, but eventually calmed himself.

"Hold on a second, " he requested. Gritting his teeth, Sebben grabbed hold of the shaft and pulled as hard as he could. The bolt withdrew from his body but left behind a small bloody hole. While Pameme starting casting curing spells over him, Sebben seemed genuinely more irate over the cost of his shirt than the life-threatening injury he just had.

"Do you have any idea how much this cost? Vincent! Willow! Show them no mercy!" Just then a bolt struck him in the throat.

Willow smiled to herself. She hadn't planned on showing any mercy anyway. However, she looked over her shoulder and found that since Pameme left Wandering Ox to aid her boss, the big Galka was in a bit of trouble. With no curing available, he would be falling to the remaining goblins' weapons soon. She stopped for a moment to bring to mind her most potent cure spell and cast it on Wandering Ox. He gave her an almost imperceptible nod while continuing to fight off his attackers.

The curing she gave her wounded companion managed to anger some of the firing line and bolts soon started flying Willow's way. She did her best to avoid getting hit but proved unable to get through the onslaught without incurring a few grazes. One bolt looked as if it would actually hit her dead-on but Willow shielded herself with her arm.

The shot landed and stuck directly on her forearm. She winced at the pain of it, but kept her resolve and bridged the short gap between her and the goblin firing line. Had she been shot before her training sessions it might have been enough to stop her cold, but her pain tolerance grew considerably ever since sparring with her father. Here and now, though, the pain took a backseat to her rage. However, Willow made a mental note that she may want to consider getting a shield for her offhand.

Willow focused her attention on a goblin bowman that was momentarily distracted while trying to dodge Vincent's onslaught. Elation filled her as she felt the blade sink in to her surprised victim. She didn't even try to suppress the wicked smile that formed on her lips. Electrical arcs swirled every where as the small body slumped and fell to the ground. She took up a spot where she could draw the remaining goblins' attention while giving Vincent a wide berth. Vincent's untamed swings made no attempt to distinguish between friend or foe.

"Watch it! That was nearly my head, " she exclaimed at him when a forceful swing missed his intended target. His only reply was an enraged look in her general direction. His swings seemed more designed to keep the various goblins unbalanced and on the defensive. The tactic was working since Wandering Ox wasn't being fired upon anymore. Willow took advantage of the situation and brutally dispatched several of them while they were avoiding Vincent's attacks. From time to time, she would cast a cure spell on Wandering Ox to keep him in fighting condition. The pair made a strangely effective team. They got into a rhythm where Vincent would disburse the crowd of goblins and Willow would pick them off one by one.

"Jek nest na trect!" shouted a goblin on a nearby hill. The muzzled voice speaking in the hard language reminded Willow of the two childhood villains that plagued her dreams for years. Hearing it speak only angered her more. This one was different than the others. It wore a steel mask and brandished an impressive-looking dagger. The mask and dagger glowing in the dark thanks to the firelight, coupled with the commands it was shouting, painted an intimidating picture. That made little difference to Willow. She was determined to take it out.

"JA!" cried out the goblin crossbowman. The command appeared to get them to retreat and regroup.

"That one appears to be the leader, " noted Wandering Ox.

"Thanks for the update, Wandering Obvious. Any more news you'd like to give us, like 'It's dark out' or 'Fire is hot'?" retorted Vincent.

"He is mine!"

"I'll keep the firing line distracted, sweetheart. Have at him."

Willow disengaged the crossbowman and charged at the leader with her sword dragging at her side. Once she was in range, she swung her rapier at the goblin in a forceful, wide arc. The leader blocked the blade with his dagger but the momentum of the swing knocked made him take a step back. The attack would have been deadly had it landed but with the leader's parry put it in prime position to strike at Willow's vulnerable "underbelly". A quick slash across her unarmored abdomen quickly stopped her momentum. Furious at small creature in front of her, she brought down the pommel of her rapier onto the center of its mask. The goblin leader stumbled back in a daze. That window of opportunity was all Willow needed to end its brutish life. Willow's pommel was the last thing it saw.

Pameme noticed Willow take a knee after her ordeal with the lead goblin and sent a cure spell her way. "You can restaru later!"

"Thank you. You saved me the trouble."

The majority of the firing line and the leader had been dealt with so the remaining goblins fled. The only exceptions were the few that were busy attacking Wandering Ox. Willow went to his aid while Vincent gave chase and ran off into the darkness yet again, screaming wildly into the night. The remaining three did what they could to get the fires under control. Vincent returned shortly, grinning from ear to ear, clutching a goblin mask.

"Good… job.. every… one..," garbled Sebben. His neck was treated and bandaged but he seemed none the worse for wear.

"Don'taru speak!" scolded Pameme. "You're lucky I was there when you got hitaru. That bandage will do for now. I'll finish after I tend to the restaru." Willow grinned roguishly at the authoritative tone in Pameme's voice.

Pameme strolled over to Wandering Ox, began to tend to his wounds, and whispered in his ear, "Sorry, looks like we're stuck eating more stew."

"Thank you, Willow," boomed Wandering Ox. "If it hadn't bee-"

"Yeah, you were amazing, Willow! Marry me, " interrupted Vincent. "Not right this second. I mean, where would we find a priest at this hour? But soon; what do you say?"

"Excuse me? I do not even know you. Thanks for the offer, but I will have to… pass…" It was at that moment that Willow realized that everyone was staring at her. It had been easy for her to forget that she started the battle wearing only her night gown. The battle had taken its toll not only on her but her flimsy gown. The gown had soaked with blood, some of it her own, and was cut open in several spots. The wetness of it caused the gown to stick to her, outlining her shapely form. At the right angle, anyone could see her body without her permission. She had always been somewhat of a tomboy growing up and never really paid much attention to her womanly side, even when nature demanded it. At that point in time, on the other hand, there was no escaping it.

Blushing and moving her arms to cover herself, she noted the crossbow bolt still sticking out of her forearm. The adrenaline coursing through her body had slowly worn off and every nick, scratch, and cut burned. She clutched her arm as the pain began to increase to almost unbearable levels. Pameme ran towards her and attempted to cover her with her blanket. Willow stooped to welcome the cover from prying eyes, but the Tarutaru-sized blanket did little to help the situation.

"Don'taru look! Show some respectaru," Pameme demanded as she led Willow away to do what she could for her arm.

" I've had my fill anyway, " Vincent noted absently after they'd left. "I don't mean to be a spoil sport but we should really think about movin'. We may have won now, but I got a feelin' they'll be back—with friends."

"Agreed," was all Wandering Ox had to offer.

Sebben opened his mouth to say something but Pameme shot him a glance that made him think otherwise. He simply nodded his approval after that. Everyone proceeded about their business to pack up and move along. Willow retired to her temporary wagon-home and changed back into her armor. Her bandaged arm still stung under the armor, but not nearly as much as her modesty. She choked back the lump in her throat and reminded herself to deal with Vincent as soon as possible.


	5. Everyone Could Use a Hand

**Chapter 5**

**Everyone Could Use a Hand**

Willow gnawed on a piece of cooked rarab leg. A cool early evening breeze comforted her as she noted how funny it is now how much Vincent had wanted her back then and how inept he was at trying to garner her favor. It had been quite a few years since that incident and yet she still liked to roll up her sleeve and stare at the scar from time to time. That one was her favorite. She also made a habit of carrying a shield from that point on.

"The look on his face was priceless the next day when I laid him out with a punch and knocked loose one of his teeth. The only thing he had done that morning was look in my direction. We moved camp and everything went smoothly after that.

"That morning, in the light of day, I saw for the first time, the whole expanse of the Highlands. It was amazing! The rolling grassy fields, the windmills, not mention the strange crag. Sebben didn't even wait for me to ask; he just started explaining as soon as we saw them. Of course, he was wrong about them, but as long as he thought he was right, I suppose that's all that mattered to him.

"Pameme was all tears when we parted company. Sebben tried again to get me to go to Jeuno. Wandering Ox was his usual stoic self. He didn't say much but the hug he gave me nearly crushed me. Vincent on the other hand,_"_ Willow paused for a moment. It was in that brief pause that she realized she was talking aloud. Had she been doing that all morning? The question irritated her since she had no witnesses to offer any insight into the matter. Her only companion that day had been a feisty chocobo who, by now, probably made it back to the stables or pestering some other adventurer.

"Kweh!" answered the chocobo, as if reading her mind. She hadn't even heard her plumed friend creep back up.

"Moko! You came back!"

"Kweh." Moko motioned towards the cooked rarab.

"Oh. Just when I thought you liked me. Fine, I'm leaving anyway. Magiere should have been here by now. I'm heading back to see what the deal is. If I leave her alone too long she has a way of getting in over her head." A heavy sigh escaped her.

"You don't understand what I'm saying, do you? I swear sometimes I must be going mad." Moko tilted her head before motioning to the modest meal in front of them. Willow shrugged at the idea of her insanity. _I wasn't talking to myself; I was just wondering aloud. _ She picked up the roasted rarab and tossed it to Moko who caught and swallowed the carcass whole. Willow then leaned in to Moko's ear and whispered the command to return to her stable. With a start, Moko leapt up and sped off. Willow watched her mount grow smaller and smaller into the distance.

The index in her mind scrolled through the list of known spells until it came to the one she needed. The energy she summoned through her incantations began to radiate blue sparks and move erratically through the air until it focused into the spot directly behind her. The energy tore at the fabric of space until a small hole surrounded by purple light opened. The maw widened until it was big enough to swallow her whole. At that moment, Willow closed her eyes then felt a tug around her waist and pressure on her chest. Everything around her was cold and dark as pitch. In an instant, it was over. When she opened her eyes she stood near the entrance to Lower Jeuno's residential district.

Jeuno had always held her fascination. Grown from a small fishing village it was now a commanding and impressive structure of remarkable architecture. Whereas most cities sprawled outwards, Jeuno decided to reach towards the heavens themselves. A residential tower, taller than any crag, was composed of plates that housed the various districts. At the peak were the Ru'Lude Gardens, a place of peace when one wanted to escape the hectic markets of Upper and Lower Jeuno or the bustling crowds of the port. Somehow, Willow always found herself there. Bridges extended from the various levels to connect the Quon and Mindartia continents making it an ideal hub for trade between the various countries. Nearly every adventurer ends up at this gargantuan column of a city at some point in their career thanks to the job opportunities easily found here.

Several other adventurers also popped into view from their own voids. Willow avoided them and made her way into her rented room in Jeuno. The small room was just large enough to be furnished with a bed and table, even a working fireplace, which gave off a comforting heat. The room may not have been great in size, but it small enough to be cozy. A nap would have been tempting but there were other, more pressing matters at hand.

"Kunan! Are you here, Kunan?"

"Kupo!," a small white moogle materialized out of thin air.

"I'm in a bit of a hurry. Things are brewing as we speak. Is there anything pressing that needs attention at the moment?"

"Well, mistress, the plants are all watered and growing nicely. There are several deliveries. The marron glaces on sale at the Auction House have sold so you have 4,000 gil profit. Then there's the salmon sub sandwich from a Jahr Navrah."

"Excellent. I'll take 2,000 and the sub. Also, if you'd be so kind as to check us out and get us ready to move. I have a bad feeling we may need to lay low back in Bastok for a bit."

"Magiere again, mistress?"

Willow simply shot the moogle a glance. The desire to comment back was lost to the overwhelming hunger. At long last she held in her hands something to stave off the weakness, unless, of course, Jahr screwed up the sandwich again. At this point, she didn't care as long as it was edible. It was still warm from when it was first made. The first bite was heaven. The more she ate of the sandwich the more she realized that it wasn't her hunger that made the sandwich so good. The mithra actually did an outstanding job on her test.

"One more item of business: send a note to Piketo-Puketo care of the Culinarian Guild about Jahr. Her modest effort was enough to pass. I recognize her as a recruit of the guild."  
"Modest, kupo? It looked like you enjoyed it."

"I know. I know. But we don't want Jahr getting a big ego now, do we? Now, if you'll excuse Kunan, I've got a mess to untangle."

Willow opened the door and left the moogle to its preparations. The first place she thought to look for her friend was near the auction house. She liked to pick the pockets of unsuspecting adventurers while they were busy posting bids for equipment. The Jeuno auction house was much larger than the one she grew up with over in Bastok, larger and more chaotic. The smells of the mithkabobs roasting over an open fire, the oil and leather smell of new armor, adventurers in need of a shower, and a mixture of other unidentifiable odors gave the area a distinctive scent.

A quick scan of the site turned up nothing, but that was no surprise. Magiere had mastered the art of not being seen if she didn't want to be. Add in the shouts and constant commotion of the adventurers' comings and goings and it's no surprise no one could spot her. Willow strained her eyes to start an in-depth search when an arm grabbed her from behind and dragged her towards a nearby alleyway.

"Will, I think I'm in over my head this time."

"That's not surprising in the least. I thought you were going to shake those guys that were following you."

"It's a little harder than it seems. They've got guys on all the exits; I'm stuck in lower Jeuno. It's only a matter of time before they find me."

"Who, may I ask, is 'they'?"

"The Tenshodo."

"What?! Why on earth would you get on their bad side?"

"Remember that mission I was hired for? Well, like I said, it was a bit trickier than I thought. There were, uh, _complications_."

That word had a tendency to cause Willow to raise her eyebrow, especially when Magiere said it.

"Alan, my employer, wanted me to secure some elemental ores to make some elemental staves. He got word that there was a shipment near Ifrit's Cauldron getting ready to be loaded. My part in the whole was to _liberate_ a few of them. That sort of smash and grab is just my thing.

"But when I got there, I saw that they were using Galkan slaves for the muscle. The conditions were just horrible. I couldn't just leave them all there. I managed to free a few of them. The security there was kind of lax. I don't think they expected anyone to come knocking around the Cauldron unless they had to. They must have spotted us on the getaway. I'm easy enough to hide, but the two Galka that were with me kind of stick out, even in the jungle. I just… I just couldn't leave them there."

Willow beamed at her friend. "You did good. You did right, for once. I'm proud of you. Now what do you think about getting out here?"

"I might just be able to slip out, but not without them following me. I'll lead them to our rendezvous point and we'll be able to ambush them from there. I don't think we can do this alone though. Get on the linkshell and see if anyone is available to give us a hand. We're going to need some help to make it through this."

_Need some help. Help…_

- - - - - -

"Look. All I'm saying is that maybe you might need a hand."

The small fist struck Willow in the midsection knocking the wind out of her. The fight hadn't gone exactly as she planned. Willow stumbled about on her feet and struggled to get the air back into her lungs. Her small, steel-masked foe was determined to keep that from happening.

"That looked like it hurt."

The goblin charged at her, slashing with its dagger. She managed to parry the blade, but still couldn't find her breath. She threatened and feinted with her blade, trying to open the distance 

between them. Her tactics weren't working. It was increasingly difficult for her to keep her footing on the shifting sands of the Valkurm Dunes. It played with her balance and denied her stable ground from which to mount a suitable offensive.

"I know you _think_ you can handle uilding' that comes your way, but, hell, even I _know_ I can't take on any ol' beastie that comes 'round the bend," Vincent stood at a distance, leaning on his great axe. From this position, he watched the whole affair and occasionally wiped the sweat from his brow.

"I… can do this."

Another slash caught the outer portion of her forearm. Her lizard skin armor absorbed the majority of it but it still drew blood. A quick stab to her shoulder followed the slash. Willow cried out but fought to keep her focus. She would need it to cast her curing spell in mid-fight. Swinging her blade wildly put the goblin on the defensive and made it retreat. That bought her just the amount of time to heal herself. Unfortunately, the familiar drained feeling of it meant she wouldn't be able to cast anymore until she got some rest. Her father's potions were gone as well.

"Can't have many of those left, huh?"

The oppressive midday sun sapped away at her strength. Her sword arm grew heavier with each thrust and her grip threatened to fail her. As much as she hated to admit it to herself, she might have bitten off more than she can chew. A grotesque feeling grew in her stomach. She didn't fear losing to the goblin so much as who she had to ask for help. Death would almost be a more favorable alternative. At least she wouldn't have to live with her decision for long, if that were the case. However, her tenacity to win won out against her dislike of Vincent.

"Very well, if you like, you may assist me."

"I'm sorry. What?"

"I said, 'you may assist me'."

"It almost sounded like you were askin' for help but more like tellin' than askin'."

The goblin closed in and swung his dagger about again. This time Willow parried where she could.

"Ok, ok. Please. Help me."

"That sounds more like it."

Vincent rushed at the goblin and swung his axe. The flat of the axe caught the goblin aside the head and stunned it for a moment. The next swing severed its head. Afterwards, he casually rummaged through its pockets looking for any gil he might find. A worn out Willow stared in disbelief at him.

"You could have done that at any time?"

"Well, not just any time. After a while, he just kinda forgot about me, makin' it easier for me to catch him off guard. I thought that was our plan all along. At least, it was mine."

"Then what was the big deal about getting me to ask for help?"

"I just wanted to see if you would. I'm serious, though. We both need help if we're goin' to get through here in one piece. I know you're headed to San d'Oria and I could use a trip there myself—got a few old debts to collect that'd make it worth my trouble. I gotta make it to Selbina first. If we hurry and avoid any more trouble we should be able to make it to the outpost by nightfall. Bastok has control of the area so they shouldn't give us any guff. We can spend the night there in relative safety."

Willow sighed dejectedly. "Very well, " was all she could manage to say.

After a brief rest in one of the sparsely shaded areas, the two continued on their journey. They both decided that discretion was the best route, meaning Willow would have to try to keep her anger in check. There were a few close calls when they passed by a goblin scout or patrol, but she managed to make it through with clenched teeth. Once, Vincent had to physically restrain her. If there was one good thing to be said about those tense moments it was that Vincent actually kept his mouth closed.

Once they had departed the caravan, Vincent had simply followed several hundred yards behind Willow. It was unnerving for her because she could feel him staring at her as they walked. Now, walking next to him, he verbally meandered from subject to subject. He spoke of his first time to San d'Oria, his hometown of Karl outside of Bastok and his boyhood there, and some of his more lucrative adventures. She wondered to herself if it wasn't better when he walked behind her in uncomfortable silence. She was nearly halfway through her journey and her thoughts drifted more and more towards what to do and where to start in San d'Oria.

"So, that's when me and a few friends got chased out of East Sarutabaruta by several dozen Yagudo. Luckily, we managed to make it to Windurst before any of us got hurt too bad."

"Mmhmm."

"What about you? What drags you out of Bastok? You don't exactly seem like the 'adventuring' type."

"I am not, per se. I mean, not like your _grand_ escapades or anything. I am simply on my way to San d'Oria. It is a matter of my own personal business."

"No need to be so cold about it. You could have just said, 'It's personal.'"

"My apologies, but it is simply a matter I do not wish to discuss with you."

Vincent exhaled forcefully. "We'll just drop it then."

The two spent the rest of the day in relative silence as they made their way to the outpost. They reached the outer fence by sunset according to plan and were able to secure a few cots that weren't being used by guards on hand. The outpost was little more than a wooden shack large enough to fit 15 people comfortably, or 5 Galka uncomfortably, she noted. The wood was old and dry rotted from it's time under the oppressive sun. The wood creaked sickeningly under her boot. Each step felt as if it would break right through the floorboards.

The interior consisted of two large rooms and one smaller room. One was used as a sort of lounge, kitchen and meeting room, with various tables and chairs facing a wall with maps and battle formations scrawled on them. The other large room had bunk beds stacked three high against the walls but those were reserved for outpost staff. The wide open middle area was filled with rows of moldy-looking cots designated for adventurer use. There was another room in the back but the door was locked and its use was unknown.

The accommodations didn't matter. After the past several days of wandering the sands of Valkurm, 4 walls and a roof was all she needed. The security was handled by the Iron Musketeer staff so they were able to get a full night's rest, a first for Willow since the days before she started traveling with company a week ago. It wasn't a bad trade off for a 100 gil. A full night's rest is worth so much more; she would have paid 10 times that. She had been able to disguise their positions at night through the use of her protection spells since it was just the two of them. Yet, she couldn't sleep peacefully, not with him present. Here in the presence of others, she felt safer.

They weren't the only outsiders to use the outpost's services. The barracks portion of the outpost already housed a menagerie of other adventurers. Some wore robes, others wore battle harnesses, and some were wearing assorted lizard armor like her. Two warriors clad in scale mail similar to Vincent's sat discussing battle tactics while a small boyish tarutaru slept soundly on a cot next to them, barely taking up a quarter of its length. Willow had never seen such a look of peace on a sleeping person before, with the exception of a sleeping baby.

"Over here. These are ours, " came Vincent's flat voice from the corner. He stood beside two green, worn cots that would serve as theirs for the night. "They'll be servin' some kind of gruel soon, costs extra of course. But, since I hauled up some supplies for the Musketeers, I can eat for free. You're welcome to it. You know my policy on grub others make."

"Thank you. I just might. I am tired but I am starving."

"I'll go tell the guards and leave you to it then." Despite the stifling humidity inside the outpost his tone chilled her. She watched him in silence as he stowed his rucksack and other gear underneath his cot. Taking only a short hand axe, he departed without as much as a glance in her direction. Willow sat quietly. Although it was just for a few minutes, it could have been hours or days for all they felt.

The sounds of the two warriors laughing heartily at some unknown joke snapped her out of her stupor. The two got up and made their way to a short line forming at a counter that divided the cooking area from the meeting area. A Galka fitted with an enormous, food-stained apron hoisted a large cauldron onto the counter in the lounge and stirred the contents with a wooden ladle. The distinct smell of cooked meat slowly wafted over to Willow. She briefly entertained the notion of standing in line with the rest of the strangers before getting up and walking out.

The sun had set only an hour beforehand and yet the Dunes had cooled noticeably. Willow stopped briefly and turned to face a passing breeze before setting out in search of Vincent. It was a welcome change from the stuffy outpost and the stench of sweat that choked the air. Wandering the perimeter of the outpost she found him sitting on an uprooted palm tree and stoking the embers of a fledgling fire around the back of the outpost. The corpse of a freshly slain, over-sized lizard lay next to him. How he managed to find his "food" so fast never failed to pique her curiosity.

Vincent made no attempt to acknowledge her presence. He kept on tending to the fire that lashed menacingly at the wooden stick poking its body. She walked behind him and took a seat on some nearby crates but neither dared break the silence. Willow watched in silence and looked him over. The patches of hair on face had grown longer but still couldn't, or wouldn't, form any sort of beard. His unruly dark hair, still damp from sweat, clung to the sides of his face. He wasn't particularly good looking. In fact, aside from the armor he wore, he was fairly nondescript. Despite all his bad mannerisms and idiosyncrasies, she had seen that there was a hint of kindness buried underneath all that… _man_, for lack of better term.

Vincent unsheathed a dagger hidden in his boot once he was satisfied with the fire's growth. He stood and took a few steps towards the lizard's corpse to prepare it for its fiery fate. To his surprise, he was met by Willow standing in his way. Swiping the dagger from his hand, she began to gut the lizard.

"I will clean it."

Vincent didn't reply. Instead, he took his seat once again.

"I go to San d'Oria to see my mother. She died giving birth to me there and I wish to pay my respects. But my journey is more than that. Though we are San d'Orian, my father never speaks of it. He taught me Elvaanish and a few minor historical notes. I learned more from reading a book than his tutelage. That strikes me as terribly peculiar.

"When I was training with my father, he had such a look of contentment upon his face. Never have I seen it on him before, regardless of his endeavors. Yet, I have felt it too. I felt that thrill through all those countless duels the young men of Bastok would challenge me to. It was even greater out here, when life and death were on the line. It reminds me of something my father, a simple goldsmith, once told me, of how San d'Orians were bred for combat. And, I have run across something in my studies that bears further investigation. I suspect it may illuminate more about my past. I go to find out more about where I am from, to seek my kin."

"That was it? That was your big secret? I gotta tell you, Will, that was weak at best. You think you're so different? I've been walking these roads for 3 years now. They're filled with people trying to find out who they are. I'll bet all the gil in my pockets that at least half the people in that buildin' are trying to find themselves. The other half is busy trying to swindle them out of their money."

Willow placed the lizard on a spit and positioned it over the fire.

"I believe you mistake my intentions, or perhaps I didn't make them clear enough. I _know_ who I am and I'm aware of my limits, or at least I thought I did. One of the reasons I left is that I wish to test them, push past them, and become stronger. I have come to see I cannot do that alone. So I will seek out and learn from those than can teach me. I find it difficult, near impossible even, to ask for help, as you have seen. Perhaps that may be something I may need to work on as well. My father always taught me to rely on myself, on my own strength and skill. Others can be weak, either in heart or in deed, especially men."

"Maybe it's just 'cause you're Elvaan. You're all stuck up stick-in-the-muds."

"I would not really know. Either way that goal can wait. My immediate focus is to learn of my heritage, of my ancestors, but knowledge of it will not change who I am presently. I will still be Willow. And I would still be able to best you in a duel, " a wry smile slowly formed her lips.

The smell of cooking lizard meat slowly filled the air as tufts of whitish smoke rose from the carcass. Vincent did nothing but stare at Willow for an uncomfortable period of time. "That gob earlier would disagree. I think I remember a certain little blond Elvaan crying for help." His own smile returned as well.

"Your actions earlier did not count. Taking someone by surprise when they are not looking is not skill. A child can do that. Or is it that you're afraid? Afraid to take on the 'little, blond Elvaan'?"

"It's a duel you want? My axe against your toothpick or bare hands?"

"How about neither?" Before he could respond Willow cast a spell on him. Unable to move his limbs, Willow walked up to him and knocked him to the ground with a solid right hook to the jaw.

"Dir… ty…"

Willow left him on the ground while the spell ran its course. In the meantime, she sat down on the overturned tree, propped her feet on his chest and enjoyed the freshly cooked meal.


	6. Blindsided

**Chapter 6**

**Blindsided**

Slap! The noise was enough to yank Willow from her thoughts. The ringing in her ears was soon joined by the hot stinging of the hand-shaped indentation upon her cheek.

"You're not even listening to me, are you Will?"

"Of… of course I am. Don't be ridiculous."

"Oh yeah, what did I just say?"

"It was something… uh… about… a duck?"

"No! I said we need a spot to ambush them. You get it ready and I'll keep _ducking_ them. Tell me on the shell when you're ready and I'll lead them to it. You got a map of Rolanberry handy?"

"Hold on. Let me check, " Willow pulled a few assorted magical, vellum maps from their storage case on her belt. "Hmm, Eldieme… Xarcabard… Giddeus… ooo, the Boyada Tree, when did I get that?… Gusgen… ah, here, Rolanberry Fields."

"Hmm, we need someplace close to Jeuno, but far enough away that the Jeunoan guard won't interfere, preferably someplace with high ground."

"This looks like a good place, Mag, a small patch of land by the entrance to the Sauromugue Campaign. It offers some elevated cover in this rolanberry patch. As soon as you leave the gates, head southeast. Bring them between these two trees," Willow marked the positions on her map. "We'll cover you from there."

Magiere sighed with apprehension, "Wish me luck."

The two hugged quickly before Magiere pulled the hood on her cloak over her head and dashed off into the crowd. Even though Willow was looking right at her, she seemed to vanish in midair. _We're going to need some firepower and I think I've got just the thing_, Willow thought to herself while rubbing her tender cheek. Excitement filled Willow's steps as she rushed off back to her rental room. To her dismay, the moogle had already checked them out.

She reached into her linkpearl case to retrieve a small, pink-colored pearl. Donning it, she spoke into the shell, "Kunan!"

"Kupo?"

"I'm going to need my bag of goodies. Would you be so kind?"

"Where shall I meet you?"

"I'll be at the chocobo stables in Lower Jeuno shortly."

"I'll see you there, ma'am!"

Next, she reached into the pearl case to retrieve a silvery-white pearl. This one would allow her to speak with her linkshell Silver Shield. Linkshells have been called all sorts of names in their time: guilds, shells, leagues, clubs, etc., but she called this one home. The adventurers in this particular shell had been through a lot with her and had never let her down in her hours of need. Once placed on her ear, she became an auditory voyeur to the conversations taking place inside. Some voices she recognized, others she didn't. Adventurers often joined the shell only to leave soon after.

"Is anyone near an Auction House? I need some shihei. I've run out," called out one voice belonging to Fashow, from the sound of it.

"Sor..y, I'm kn.. deep in …udo here in Oz…ja," called out a garbled voice.

"Sound's like Kain's disconnecting again," noted Fashow.

"I can do it. Rrremember that you owe me, Fash" called out the mithra she immediately recognized as Aleerah.

"Hello?"

"Willow!"

"Hi Will."

"Hey Willow."

"Sup?"

"I'm in a bit of bind guys and I need a little help."

"What's wrong?" asked one voice.

"What happened, Will?" inquired another.

"Well, it seems Magiere's gotten into a bit of hot water," the statement was met with a wave of groans. "I know. I know. Things are a bit different this time. She was doing the right thing and she now finds herself on the bad side of the Tenshodo. I'm about to set up an ambush site where she's going to lead them right outside of Jeuno. If we take them all out, the Tenshodo'll never find out it was us. I'm going to need you to bring ranged weapons, if you're coming to help. Also, if I can get a white mage to bring people, I'll pop a 'crystal.' I know I ask a lot with this request so I'll understand if you don't come."

"The Tenshodo always knows. Sorry, Will, I can't help with this one."

"That's fine, Amros, thank you anyway."

"All you've gotta do is ask and you've got my axe, as always Will," said a familiar voice.

"I didn't want to presume Vincent. Thank you."

"I can help shuttle people, Will," cried out an excitable tarutaru.

"Thank you, Hanini."

"I've gotta bone to pick the Tenshodo. Count me in."

"Thanks, Horkas."

Slowly, more people heeded the call to battle. Once there were no more offers for help she took her leave of the shell to commence preparations. She walked along Market Bridge to her destination, the chocobo stables in Lower Jeuno. Once inside, she found her moogle waiting for her.

"I've got the bag, mistress."

"Excellent," leaning in closer, she whispered into the moogle's ear, "I'm thinking we should probably lay low in San d'Oria instead, in the town of San d'Onara with Hildegarde. I don't like you-know-who's presence in Bastok. Besides, no one'll look for us in that cesspool."

"Filthy animal! That's the last time you'll cost me a small fortune!" cried out the stable owner. He raised his hand to strike the chocobo in front of him. Willow grasped his wrist when she noticed he was about to hit Moko.

"What seems to be the problem here, sir?"

"Oh, you again, miss. It seems you're the only one that hasn't come back asking for a refund and damages after renting this one. She's too wild—tends to throw off her riders and run back. If I told you how much gil she's cost me, you'd flip."

"Then you needn't worry about the cost anymore. I'll take this chocobo off your hands, at a great discount no less. That is, of course, unless you like losing gil."

"Haha! That's rich. I can just sell it to one of the city stables and make my money back. I've got a business to run, sweetheart and my doors don't stay open giving discounts."

Willow tossed the rotund fellow up against a stable post and had a dagger to his throat before he could react. "I can just take the chocobo and leave you here dead. I'm giving you a chance to profit off this out of the goodness of my heart."

A smarmy grin materialized on his lips, "Lady, you got any idea many times a day I get intimidated by adventurers looking to cheat me out of my gil? Look around. We're in Jeuno. No one's dumb enough to pull a stunt like this in broad daylight here. But I like you kid," his eyes leered over her form, "I'll tell you what: I'll sell you the chocobo for half price and a favor, to be named in the future."

"I will not sleep with you if that's what you're implying."

"No no, nothing like that. I'm married, kid, and while I love her, I fear her more than the Shadow Lord himself. I run an honest business here, but I do have a little something going on the side. I can never know when I could use an adventurer's services for something a little less on the up and up. You know, extra muscle, smuggling, that sort of thing."

"Very well, I agree to the terms. My compatriot here will take care of the payment arrangements and how you can get hold of me if necessary. Now, if you'll excuse me, I pray you haven't made me too late for my own affairs." She grabbed Moko's reigns and proceeded out the stable doors. The smug stable owner stared at her behind as she walked off. "At least I don't need to deal with him for chocobos anymore. Now, what am I going to do with you…?"

"Kweh."

"Of course. Why didn't I think of that?" she said, feigning comprehension. " Let's go Moko. Time for work."

The stable exit put them just outside Jeuno. She mounted Moko and headed to the ambush site. Any feeble attempts to focus on the task at hand were thwarted by the sound of Vincent's voice. Once the ordeal was over she thought it would be nice to see him again in a non-combat oriented situation. Things between them improved after the night at the outpost. It wasn't a drastic improvement, but enough to make him tolerable, even likable.

"Vincent can be a bit much, Moko, but he's a good guy. You'd like him."

"Wark!"

"Whoa, girl. Here we are," Willow pulled the reigns and pulled the chocobo to a halt. Moko went about her business once again leaving Willow to study the area. Bag in hand, she worked to prepare the area. Small flags were planted near the southern part of the designated trees. The flags danced in the wind while Willow retrieved several black, metallic orbs from the bag and carefully set them about the area. Once in place, she hid them underneath loose vines and fallen leaves. Satisfied with the preparations, she ran between the two trees and looked southeast as if she would be if she were coming from Jeuno but failed to see anything out of the ordinary.

The only thing remaining was the "crystal". Willow walked to the cover of the rolanberry patch. White mages all over Vana'diel were able to transport large groups of people to the various crags throughout the land by using the crystals near them. The crystals radiate an enormous amount of energy allowing white mages of sufficient experience to sense them and use them as anchors in magical teleportation. It's possible to simulate this energy by magically creating a less-powerful and short-lived version of a crag crystal. This pseudocrystal allows quick gathering of a large force, in this case fellow linkshell members.

Unfortunately, the incantations are complex and draining and the casting time is significantly long to be useful in mid-battle. Willow cleared her mind and began to speak the arcane words meant to summon the spell. Minutes passed and the strain slowly increased. Beads of sweat on her forehead betrayed the intense concentration. Lost to the world for ten entire minutes, she could have been attacked or worse and never known it. With the last word spoken and her mind near exhaustion, she opened her open to gaze upon the shimmering crystal in front of her. The urge to sit overwhelmed her. The only thing left to do was wait, so she indulged in a brief rest on the cool grass.

- - - - - -

The rolling fog that permeated the trees of West Ronfaure gave the entire forest a vaguely ethereal quality. The early morning air sweeping down from nearby Beaucidine brought a chill even in summer. The two travelers had planned on resuming their trip at first light yet the dark gray clouds overhead masked the sun and delayed their start.

"We should still make it San d'Oria by midday if we keep up this pace. Not a moment too soon, not that I don't enjoy the company but if I don't sleep in a real bed sometime soon my back is going to tie itself into a bretzel. Hmm, that'd be nice: a warm bretzel, a real bed… and a real woman."

"Pig. I do not see why we could not stay in San d'Onara last night then, if you really needed the comfort of a bed, or of a 'real woman', whatever that is. From what you've told me, you could find either there."

"I'd say we could have found you a real man, but you've been walking with one for quite some time."

Willow's hand instinctively smacked the back of his head, a habit she picked up recently. Vincent shrugged off the blow.

"Your aim is about 3 feet too high, tuts. Anyway, like I said before, San d'Onara isn't really a place for outsiders. The only people who live there are the folks on the outs of San d'Oria. You know, disgraced nobles, thieves, ruffians, and the bad element, really. If San d'Oria's the city, then San d'Onara's the slum."

"Sounds like your ilk."

"Don't get me wrong, a guy like me can go there and have a wild time. But, uh, it's not for you."

Willow paused for a moment to wonder if they had avoided the small, woodland town in unnecessary attempt to protect her from the unruly sort that lived there or if Vincent just didn't want her to see an even worse side of him. Her thoughts were broken by the sound of a nearby rhythmic sound.

Thud, thud… thud. Thud, thud… thud. Over and over.

"Do you hear that? What is that?"

"Dunno. It's close though."

"Look, over there," in the distance Willow spotted the source of the sounds. A tall, red-headed Elvaan girl, dressed in white gi and white gloves, was punching and kicking a tree in front of her. She would alternate, right fist, left fist, right leg then right fist, left fist, left leg. The tree's bark was smooth and dented from her constant pummeling. Willow couldn't even begin to guess how long it had taken for her to do that to the tree. Willow and Vincent made their way over to her.

The Elvaan girl paid no attention to either of them; she was completely ensconced in her training. Once they were close enough, Willow was aghast to find that the girl's white gloves were really just white tape wrapped around her fists. The tape on the girl's knuckles was tattered and bloodied. After several minutes of watching her, she finally stopped and faced her visitors. Paying no attention to Vincent, she faced Willow.

"_Bon di."_

Her father taught her Elvaanish but she had only spoken with him. She was delighted to speak with another Elvaan in their native tongue, "_Bon di. Commen vu vas ?"_

"_Buen, I vu? Qu' hace esti di?"_

"Hello! Nice to meet you. I'm sorry. I don't speak any Elvaanish."

The electronic, monotone voice originated from a device on Vincent's belt. In her short conversation with the Elvaan girl, Willow failed to notice Vincent strap on a necklace connected to the box on his belt. The girl glanced at Vincent for a second before returning her attention to Willow.

"My name is Hildegarde, pleased to make your acquaintance. Your accent is horrible so I will speak in the Hume tongue."

"My name is Willow and my friend here is Vincent. I have an accent?"

"You do when you speak in our native tongue. You have grown up around the Humes, have you not?"

"I have. Yet, I've come to San d'Oria to visit family. What brings you out here this morning?"

"What horrible thing has this tree done?" inquired Vincent.

"My daily training. This tree has volunteered to help me out with my body hardening. It's my hope to enter the Royal Knights one day, so I practice diligently here every day. Care for a match?"

"I would be honored. Would you like to set any particular rules?" Secretly, Willow felt confident she would win, even more so when Hildegarde produced a rapier of her own. Yet despite all her skill and training, the experiences of the recent weeks left her with a certain amount of apprehension and doubt. She forced the thoughts from her mind to focus on the task at hand.

"Come at me with everything you have, with all your powers at the ready."

"Very well, whenever you are ready," with that Willow dropped her backpack and drew her sword.

The two combatants advanced and retreated, respectively. To Vincent, it appeared as if they were dancing with each other, when they were just gauging each other's attack distances. They feigned and parried each other. No words were exchanged but none needed to be. The blades spoke to each other, telling each other of their wielders' experience. With their knowledge of each other sated, the real match started.

"It is nice to see that living with the Humes has not made you soft."

"Your technique is impressive."

"Yours as well."

Confident that she wasn't merely picking on Hildegarde, Willow brought her full arsenal to bear. In mid-attack she began to cast an onslaught of enfeebling spells against Hildegarde. Some worked, others appeared to have no effect. Her paralysis and slowing spells stuck for certain. Hildegarde's movements were visibly hampered. Rather than retreat back until the spells wore off Hildegarde closed the distance between the two, a move that caught Willow off-guard. At such short distance, the length of Willow's sword became a liability and she would have to rely on the edges instead of the point for attack. Willow swung her blade as if it were an axe trying to chop a tree in one blow. Hildegarde was completely prepared for it and blocked it easily with her blade. Then stepping in closer, she hooked her leg behind Willow's and pushed forward with her forearm, knocking Willow to the ground. Willow looked up to see the point of Hildegarde's rapier pointed at her.

"My point. Another?"

"Of course."

The two went on in similar fashion for the next hour. While the action was exciting at first, Vincent quickly became bored. It was fairly one-sided, in Hildegarde's favor. After a while though, Willow showed signs of promise once she adjusted to Hildegarde's unusual tactics and found ways to counter them. It was definitely a learning experience for her since some of Hildegarde's moves flew in the face of everything her father taught her was the most appropriate action in a fight.

"Will, we have to get a move on if we're gonna make it to San d'Oria sometime today. We're losing light."

"You… are… right," she admitted in between gasps of air. "It was nice meeting you Hildegarde. If you would do me the honor, I would love train with you again sometime. I do not know about the tree punching, though. That does not look fun."

"Training should not be fun. It is hard and demanding. Yet, this was invigorating. There are few around here that can rival my skill. Any morning you feel up for a match, I will be here."

"Do you live in San d'Oria? We can meet up there later!"

"I… do not," Hildegarde averted their eyes.

"Oh. Well, I will find you. It was nice meeting you, once again."

"Nice to meet you. Goodbye." Vincent had gathered their belongings and offered Hildegarde his hand to shake. Once again, she paid no heed to him.

As they walked off, Hildegarde heard Willow tell Vincent to "put that thing away" before slapping the back of his head. She betrayed a smile at the thought of making a new friend, even if it was an outsider like Willow. Then again, Hildegarde was considered an outsider herself. She watched as the two disappeared further into the forest.

"You two looked alike. Then again, all you Elvaan look the same to me. I'm surprised she talked to you, though."

"What makes you say that?"

"Most Elvaan are snobby, everyone knows that. But they reserve the worst for Elvaan that don't grow up in the Kingdom. They even have a curse word for it, but I can't think of it at them moment."

"Perhaps she does not care about that."

"Oh, she cares. They all do. But maybe, just maybe, you pounded some respect in that noggin' of hers."

"Or, perhaps she is lonely. If she had grown up in San d'Onara, I cannot imagine there were that many playmates for her."

The two bickered over Hildegarde's motives until they came to the agreement that neither knew what they were talking about. They spent the rest of the morning in sporadic conversation. The fog had long since lifted and still the emptiness of Ronfaure and the old trees gave Willow an odd feeling. She had always wished that once she got closer to San d'Oria that some part of her would begin to feel as if she were somehow coming home. Yet now near the end of her journey, all she felt was an eerie, dread feeling. Something felt out of place and she couldn't put her finger on it. The feeling receded a little once they were close enough to see the city walls of San d'Oria.

Droplets of rain began to fall and the air cooled slightly. The scent of the rain replaced the musty smell of mold that had filled their nostrils since wandering into Ronfaure. Willow propped up the hood on her cloak once the rain began to fall more steadily. Vincent had no cloak and didn't seem to mind the rain or the chill it brought at all. The guards near the city entrance remained motionless as they approached. It wasn't until they were within a few feet that one finally spoke.

"Halt. Identification, please," Willow and Vincent both handed over their adventurer's credentials. "What business have you in San d'Oria?"

"_Bon di._"

"Oh… a foreigner. Well?"

"We're here on a pilgrimage to the Cathedral. Seems my blond friend here needs to confess. She's been naughty."

"I have done no such thing!"

"What about last night when you-" Willow's hand automatically came up but the guard's voice ceased her action.

"Move it along you two. The city gates are no place for a lover's quarrel."

"But I am not-"

"Let's move it along, dear. We don't wanna upset the nice guards," Vincent grabbed their papers and shuffled her into the city by the shoulders. They made their way through the various courtyards before finally entering the southern portion of San d'Oria. The pouring rain had everyone running for cover. Those who hadn't run pulled up their hoods like Willow. Vendors shouted over the sounds of the falling water in a desperate attempt to sell their wares. People shuffled back and forth carrying packages or bickering over prices. It reminded Willow of the Bastok Markets area. She half expected to see Magiere running around picking pockets. The scene brought her a homesick feeling.

Despite the bustle, there wasn't a whole lot of similarity between the two capitals. Bastok looked like it had been carved out of the rock it sat on. In a strange way it co-existed with its surroundings. San d'Oria on the other hand, looked out of place in the forest. Everything was built up with cut stones and mortar, lines and edges everywhere. The only hint of the forest outside was a few decorative trees and the lumber used to build houses in the city. A city of stone nestled in the woods. Willow found it to be an intriguing contrast.

"Straight ahead, past the auction house, keep following the street. Keep going until you see a tavern called Lion Springs on your left, then you know it's just a bit further. You can rent a room in the residential district. I know you want to see your mother right away, but it wouldn't hurt to freshen up a bit first."

"Thank you. That is an excellent idea. Maybe then the rain will have stopped. What will you do?"

"I have some business to attend to."

"Stay out of trouble, please."

"I make _no_ promises. See you around," Vincent walked off leaving her to herself. Willow followed the directions he gave her and proceeded towards the auction house. Even in the chilly rain people were buying and selling, indifferent to the weather around them. For a moment, she felt as if someone were looking at her and looked in that direction. She turned her head and locked eyes with an older Elvaan, with graying blond hair and wearing a heavy, dark cloak, before he looked away. He possessed a familiarity that comforted her. _Maybe we all do look alike, _she mused to herself.

The moment passed and she continued along her way. She noted the tavern on the left just like Vincent said. The temptation to stop inside was fleeting. Without her father to tell her what to do, she was free to do as she pleased, but decided to stick with her plans. There would be time to enjoy her freedom later.

The guard who issued her rented room was as rude towards her as the other gate guard. But it was worth it, once she lay down on a real bed, the first time she had done so in 5 weeks, 4 days, and 7 hours. She set out her belongings and prepared a bath. The warm water was helped her muscles relieve the tension built up from her sparring earlier. In the privacy of her own tub, she looked over her naked body and admired the myriad of bruises and scrapes incurred from weeks of conflict and life on the road. Willow couldn't even remember where she received half of them from. Her hair had darkened from the sheer amount of dirt hiding in it. She was surprised the bath water didn't turn to the consistency of sludge once she got in.

The bath rejuvenated her and she felt a renewed her sense of purpose. Walking over to her things, she removed her dress from its brown wrapping paper. She picked up the white and pink dress in Selbina while Vincent was conducting his "business". A merchant and novice weaver offered it to her at cost. He was flooded with them thanks to his recent crafting binge. It was nothing terribly formal, but something she might have worn for special occasions, if she had worn dresses or attended special occasions. Unfortunately, she was unable to find shoes to match. Fortunately, the skirt was long enough to hide her lizard-skin boots underneath. Once dressed, she donned her cloak and made her way to the northern San d'Oria residential entrance.

Out in the open, Willow saw that the rain had faded to a slight drizzle. She also saw a strangely familiar face waiting for her with a bouquet of flowers. Vincent had undergone his own transformation. His scale mail armor was gone and replaced with a set of lizard skin armor similar to Willow's save for a different hue. The most remarkable change was that he was clean shaven and had a haircut. With his grizzled hair gone, he gave off a boyish appearance, which was probably why he attempted to grow facial hair to begin with. She smiled warmly at him.

"Are those for me?"

Vincent stared at her open-mouthed.

"Close your mouth. You are attracting flies."

"I'm sorry. I, uh-you're so- Here, these are for you," Vincent forcefully shoved the flowers at Willow. "I mean, they're for your mother."

"Thank you. I was hoping to get some in town for her."

"Let me take this for you, " Vincent removed her cloak. "It doesn't go well with the dress and besides, it's not really raining anymore."

"You may be right. So, where is the Cathedral?"

"It's kinda hard to miss. But I'll take you there. The burial grounds are out back. I never really mentioned this before, but they don't just let anyone get buried there. You'll see when we get closer but the whole thing is built over the moat so there's not a lot of real estate. Usually only nobility or a rare adventurer of Elvaan descent that has done something worthy are buried there. It may take some digging but I'm interested in finding out which."

"That is what I came across in my studies. I imagine that she must have been an adventurer of some importance, yet my father barely speaks of her. I know he misses her, especially around my birthday. He becomes more stoic than usual, if that is possible. If you would have seen how I grew up, you would know we were certainly not nobility."

"When you're done, we can ask around. I know a few places to start."

"That would be helpful. Thank you." Vincent offered his arm. To his surprise, Willow accepted. The two walked in the direction of the Cathedral but neither said anything more. It was a short walk yet each step was laden with sadness and her heart seemed to grow heavier as they approached the Cathedral. Vincent stopped at the steps.

"Will, I'll wait here. Tell one of the priests why you're here and he'll lead you to the burial grounds."

"I will not be gone long."

"Take as much time as you need."

Upon entering the church, Willow was greeted by a young Elvaan in blue robes.

"Hello my child, you seem lost."

"Yes, I am here to pay my respects to my mother."

"Ah, yes, my condolences. If you would please follow me, I will lead you to her resting place. If you are in need of solace there is an evening service in a few hours."

"That will not be necessary, but thank you."

The blue-robed Elvaan led Willow through the high-ceilinged interior of the Cathedral. The immense size of it made her feel small by comparison. The fading fragrance of incense still lingered on the air. The echoing sounds of her boots striking the marble reverberated along the walls and broke the relative silence with each footfall. They passed several unkempt worshippers kneeling on the bare marble floors whispering incoherently to themselves. They were undeterred in their prayers by the sounds of their footsteps. Once past, the friar led Willow down a series of candle-lit corridors before finally coming to a heavy wooden door. The clouds dispersed and the late afternoon sun was blinding to Willow.

"Do you require assistance finding your mother?"

"I have directions. I can find her on my own."

"I shall take my leave of you then. May the Gates of Paradise open to you."

Willow looked around at the rows of grave markers in the still-damp green grass. There were a few other Elvaan in the area. Most were old, perhaps visiting friends or relatives they would see soon in the afterlife. One young Elvaan girl, barely older than Willow, sobbed uncontrollably in front of a large headstone. She was veiled and adorned in black. The somber mood of the others overwhelmed her but she held back the tears. She reached into her boot and pulled out the directions to the headstone that marked her mother's grave.

The note her father wrote took her to a large, white marble headstone. It appeared to be a family plot with several of her ancestors buried there. The headstone read:

_Beloved Daughter, Mother and Wife_

_Arlenne Vaugroun_

_C.E. 843 – C.E.862_

Willow read the inscription over and over thinking there had to be some sort of mistake in her father's directions. She scoured over the nearby graves but could find none for Arlenne Raulemant. Backtracking to the Vaugroun family plot, she stared in disbelief and wondered what it meant. Was her last name really Vaugroun? What other lies had her father had told her? Willow did her best to calm her fury at her father and leave the mystery to be sorted out later, but the effort was futile. Tears of anger and sorrow slowly trickled down her sunburned cheeks. At long last, she was with her mother. Kneeling down, she tenderly placed the bouquet of assorted rain lilies at the headstone.

"Mama, I do not understand."

"Willow..?" asked a foreign voice behind her. She turned around in time to see an older Elvaan man walking towards her. She immediately recognized him as the gentleman she noticed at the auction house. Knowing no one in San d'Oria, she was utterly confused that someone would know her.

"Yes?"

The stranger eyed her carefully. "You have the look of your mother. Knights, seize her!"


	7. Truth and Other Burdens

**Chapter 7**

**Truth and Other Burdens**

Days passed. Instead of languishing in a dungeon for some unknown crime, Willow was kept sequestered in an unused house in southern San d'Oria. The ever watchful Temple Knights served as her jailor-hosts. She was given a change of clothes, even if they were a slight step above rags, and matching shackles. They fed her regularly. It was nothing extravagant but definitely better than sharing rarabs with Vincent.

The two-story house was sparsely furnished with a bed, table set, and a solitary candle. Her bed and table were in the main living room area of the house. The other portions of the house were sealed off or locked. Even the windows were boarded up except for one that just narrowly offered a sliver of view of the nearby street. Everything about the place gave off a lonely vibe which was compounded by the guard. None of the Knights would talk to her or even look her in the eye, save for one.

One of the Knights, a tall, silver-haired young Elvaan who brought her food from time to time, would smile at her. He was part of the troop of Knights assigned to guard her. She began to welcome their silent exchange. For lack of anything better to do, she started watching him through the window as he walked his post around the house. Through his dealings with others, she noticed a fierce determination in his eyes yet when he looked at her she saw kindness there too. One day, he smuggled a book in for her. It was a collection of short stories and fantastic tales of ancient San d'Orian heroes.

The old, tattered book, simply titled _On Heroism,_ was filled with stories of the well known heroes like Lady Eldie Montiont, Erpalacion B Chanoix, Lanfeaur d'Oraguille, indeed the d'Oraguille line comprised the bulk of the work, but there were also tales of lesser known heroes. Some citations barely offered a few sentences to remember their honorable deeds. It was in these blurbs of history that she ran across the name Cainere P Vaugroun. There wasn't much information there only that his valiant actions during the First Battle of Konschtat directly led to the destruction of the Gusgen mines.

From a chair overlooking the window, Willow pondered the words of the book when the door opened and her first actual visitor arrived. The same man who set the guards upon her at the cemetery now stood looking down at her, his face contorted in rage.

"Where is your father?"

"Who are you? What do you want with me? Why have-"

"Silence! I am asking the questions here. We have men looking for that traitor in Bastok but our efforts have been fruitless so far. Is he in the capital? Or is he in one of the smaller towns outside?"

"You waste your time. I will not give him up."

"Your cooperation is not necessary only your presence. Sooner or later he will come for you, or he will be arrested by the Musketeers. They have agreed to join the search. The Republic as well as the Kingdom does not look favorably on war crimes. Regardless, he will be brought to justice."

"War crimes…" she whispered in astonishment.

"It does not surprise me that coward lacked the courage to tell you what he has done."

"He is not a coward!"

"He is a coward and a burden to all who have the unfortunate circumstance to know him."

"Papa is the most honorable man I know, perhaps the most honorable man in Bastok."

"That is an easy feat, to be sure. Even the most honorable man in Bastok is less than the worst thief in San d'Onara. It is fitting he has been hiding out there. What does anyone in Bastok know of honor?"

"Why do you hate him so?"

His features softened somewhat. "Hate? I do not hate him, merely disappointed. As my older brother, he was everything to emulate. Instead, he took all we had and threw it away.

"I am sorry we are meeting in this way, Willow. I have not seen you since your mother's funeral. You bear such a resemblance to her. It's unfortunate to have to detain you since you held no part in the matter. Understand that your father's actions have shamed us all. We should lead the life of the privileged as our station demands. But, your father squandered every ounce of nobility left in our line."

"Tell me then, what was his unpardonable sin?"

"I will leave that for him to admit. In the meantime, I believe my daughter wishes to say something to her long lost cousin. I'll leave you two alone," with that he got up and exited the house. The door opened and in walked a fiery-haired girl.

"Hildegarde?"

"Do you have any idea the hardships I faced growing up? Every day I listened to my father's laments while we barely make ends meet in that den of thieves!"

"I'm sor-"

"Every day, I get up and I train endlessly and without complaint with one purpose in mind: to join the Royal Knights and try to win back the honor that was stolen from me before I was even born! Can you imagine what it feels like to grow up surrounded by scum and knowing you are better than them?"

"Listen, I-"

"No, you listen. My father may consider you an innocent victim in all this but as far as I am concerned you are all at fault: you, your coward father, _and_ your whore mother."

The word penetrated her ears and burrowed into her mind setting off a wave of emotion. Willow's skin felt intensely hot. She lunged at Hildegarde's throat but the shackles she wore prevented her from lifting her hands above her waist. Hildegarde stood her ground and cocked her arm back. The next event seemed to take forever to occur. Willow helplessly watched as Hildegarde's fist slowly sailed through the air at her face. Just before the fist landed, the image of the smooth-barked tree popped into her mind. Then, everything went black.

Skull-splitting pain woke her. The darkness outside had a disorienting effect and she could not tell if it were late evening or early morning. A damp washcloth covered her forehead and for a moment, she was a little girl again surviving a goblin attack. She looked around for her father but instead found the Knight watching over her.

"Good evening. Do not move, milady. You hit your head fairly hard, and so did Miss Hildegarde."

"My teeth hurt."

"Yes, she managed to knock two of them out. I was able to set them back and heal some of the damage but the swelling will take some time to go down. If it assuages your anger any, your uncle chastised her once they left. I do not believe it was his intention for her to attack you. Excuse me, 

where are my manners? I am afraid I have not properly introduced myself. My name is Maurequane C Bergnier."

"I am Willow Raulemant… excuse me, Willow Vaugroun."

"Two names? It is a pleasure to meet you both."

"It is a long story, one I do not completely know myself. I have been meaning to thank you for all your kindness. If I could ask one more, do you know what crime my father is being accused of?"

"We are forbidden from speaking about such matters to you, milady. However, we are forbidden from conversing with you at all yet that has not stopped me from carrying on this conversation," Maurequane smiled gently at her. "If I honestly knew I would tell you. However, I am just a guard and not privy to such information. Whatever your father has done, it is the internal affairs of the Royal Knights. I am a Temple Knight."

"All I know is that my father is accused of some heinous war crime."

"I gathered as much. Forgive me for eavesdropping; it was hard not to. Your uncle's voice carries."

"I never even knew I had an uncle, or any other family for that matter. I grew up in Bastok with such ignorance of them."

"This is your first time to San d'Oria?"

"Yes it is."

"That explains it then."

"I know I have never seen you before. I would have remembered such beauty. I am truly sorry your first experience here has been such a traumatic one." Willow's unbruised cheek flushed a rosy color and once again her skin warmed, but in a good way. "If you would indulge me one curiosity, who is Vincent?"

"Vincent? How is it you know him? He is… a friend. We met in Konschtat and he has been traveling with me ever since."

"He is a most peculiar fellow and quite the determined sort. At least two or three times a night since you have been here, he has attempted to gain entrance. Either one of the other guards or I would catch him red-handed. We have detection spells in place to catch intruders. At first, the others and I found his attempts humorous, but then they were just sad. The others wished to forcibly expel him from San d'Oria, but I could understand his tenacity," Muraquane smiled warmly once again.

"Vincent finally agreed to stop if I would give you the book to pass the time. Since then he has not been back, yet I did overhear a report of an adventurer matching his description causing quite a stir down at the chocobo stables. The adventurer in question hopped on a chocobo and fought his way out of the city, peculiar indeed. If you would excuse me, milady, I must return to my post before my relief comes and finds us. Good evening."

Willow's heart sank watching him leave. The kindness of giving her the book garnered him so much favor. Then again, he did disregard his orders for her. Even if Vincent was her benefactor, Maurequane risked much to bring it to her. She stared out the window absently, trying to digest the recent turn of events. All of things she had been so sure of all of her life were suddenly shattered. She wished her father was there to explain everything. She wished to speak with Maurequane for just a bit longer. Most of all, she wished she could rub her cheek.

More days passed. Maurequane checked on her from time to time, yet never said a word after their initial exchange, only a kind smile. On the days he would stand duty there would be fresh lilacs waiting for her when she awoke. To fill her days, she would read her book, or stare out the window wondering what Magiere or Vincent were up to.

One morning, Willow was awakened by sound of someone shouting outside. The sun had not broken the horizon yet but the night was waning. The voice exuded authority of some kind. As quietly as her shackles allowed, Willow got up and went to the door and listened. The shouter had an unfamiliar voice but the other belonged to Maurequane. His superior had caught him bringing her flowers and was berating him for it. She ran to the window but couldn't see them. Thankful as she was for the gesture, she felt sorry he was in trouble for her.

Willow ran back to the door to listen when flashes of purple light from outside poured in the window. The verbal abuse stopped and was replaced by the ringing sounds of swords unsheathing and someone commanding, "Halt!" Moments later, three loud crashes of metal hitting stone echoed in the quiet morning air. Footsteps and the sounds of jingling keys signaled the approach of the stranger. Willow backed away from the door as it opened, framing the outline of a man she knew well.

"Papa!" She nearly toppled her father when she barreled into him for a hug.

"Willow, we do not have much time. It'll only be a matter of time before they wake and more of them arrive." Nouvalmille pointed at the sleeping guards. He quickly flipped through the keys until he found the desired one and began unlocking her shackles. His attire sparked a hint of cognizance. In the dim early morning light, she could make out the feathered cap and tattered, crimson garb of a red mage.

"Papa, what is going on? Your brother, an uncle I never knew I even had, came in and told me you were guilty of war crimes!"

"Leuvemant was here? What did he tell you?"

"He said you were a coward, a burden, and had no honor."

"I suspected he would not understand, as I see in your eyes that you do not."

"What do you mean? Why is this happening?"

"All of this goes back to my actions during the Crystal War. I was a Royal Knight then, Order of the Red Rose, and assigned to the 500-strong detachment that was constructing defenses around and reinforcing the Garliage Citadel. Your mother was here in San d'Oria, heavy with you and ready to give birth. The family physician anticipated a difficult birth. It was something in the way your mother carried you. During the pregnancy, known as ectopic one, she was plagued with aches and pains, more so than usual. Against the physician's advice she miraculously carried you to term.

"The doctor was correct. She gave birth to you, but hemorrhaged profusely. The doctor was powerless to stop it. Magical restorative means were ineffectual; the damage to your mother's internal organs was too severe. She passed shortly after bestowing upon you the name Willow. Since the work on the Citadel was nearly complete, I was allowed a leave of absence to return to San d'Oria to bury your mother and set my house in order before returning to the front lines.

"When I had arrived home, a letter awaited me. Your mother, sensing the end was near, had written it. You see, your mother was also a Royal Knight, fearless and determined. Her martial prowess far surpassed my own. It was for these qualities that she was sent out time and again on missions with low survivability chances. She always made it through. Yet after a particularly difficult mission where she was one of only three survivors, she became despondent and withdrawn. Her will to fight was exhausted.

"She wanted to settle down. She wanted a family. In the years beforehand, we had tried many times, but it never took. Twice her body rejected it. It was as if her body wouldn't allow her to carry a sword and a child at the same time. Once she became pregnant again, she was returned to San d'Oria on maternity leave. She never touched her sword again.

"The letter your mother wrote outlined her final wish. She wanted you to grow up in peace, never having known the harshness of combat, the sorrow of losing friend after friend in battle, and regret of the atrocities of your actions. It was her intent that if by some miracle she had survived the birth, then the three of us would leave San d'Oria. But she was not expecting to survive and it did matter to her. Your life was the only miracle she needed.

"She named you Willow to break with San d'Orian tradition. She knew had you stayed you would be forced, by me and tradition, to join the ranks of the Royal Knights. The Vaugroun house is an old line that has served in the San d'Orian knighthood with distinction for hundreds of years: paladins, dragoons, dark knights, and even the occasional red mage. It is with that weight on my shoulders that I would have quickly refused her request. However, I must abide by her final wishes, and your name is reminder of it.

"Shortly after her burial, while I contemplated her written words, I received news that the entire detachment had been annihilated. The original plan was to tunnel past the Yagudo forces massing in the Meriphataud Mountains to the south. We were to meet up with Tarutaru mages and with their help deal with the Yagudo threat. However, the Orcs got wind of the plans and informed the Yagudo. They waited until just the right moment before the Yagudo infiltrated the Citadel via a secret entrance and surrounded and slaughtered my friends and fellow knights.

"Along with the news came orders to return to my unit, a reconstituted Order of the Red Rose, and make our way to Tavnazia, where we would make our stand against the beastmen hordes along with the strong contingent of the Allied Forces of Altana. So I was torn between duty to my country and duty to my wife. You know what my decision was.

"So, I gathered the barest essentials we needed for the trip and fled San d'Oria in the night. Thanks to our ancestors' legacy we had power, respect and wealth and had you grown here, your life would have been spent in comfort, before joining the knighthood. However, to honor your mother I abandoned my duties and my fate. It was not until we showed up in Bastok that I found out the entire Allied Force and Tavnazia were both wiped out. Twice, I have eluded my death thanks to your mother.

"Our family's lands and assets were seized and liquidated to help fund the war effort. Leuvamant was young, too young for the Army, and was without wife or child. Our parents fell in service as well, so there was no one to look after him. Yet, he was old enough to find his own way. I was confident he would land on his feet. I appear to be mistaken and he has grown bitter with the passage of time.

"When you left, I knew it was only a matter of time before you knew the truth. I had planned to tell you all of this upon your return. I was at the guild this morning when a Hume came to find me and informed me of your capture. It was a consequence I had hoped would not come to pass. I came as soon as I paid off my debts and set my other affairs in line."

The sounds of a throng of rapidly approaching footsteps on pavement disturbed the silence outside.

"We do not have much time, my child. You must leave this place. I will surrender myself to the guard. I have grown weary of hiding and you are ready to stand on your own. You have been for quite some time. Once they have me, they will no longer need you. Make your way to Mhaura. Your friend Vincent waits for you there. I have entrusted him with some keepsakes of your mother's: the letter she wrote me and her sword, which she received from her mother as well. Keep them safe.

"Long have I thought of your mother's actions. There were times when I was infuriated at the boredom of having gone from swords to plowshares, so to speak. If I had not, I would not have seen you grow into the fine woman you are. I cannot wait to tell your mother about you. Now go."

"Papa…"

"Go!"

- - - - - -

She remembered leaving her father behind once again. True to his word he surrendered himself to the San d'Orian authorities. Despite the fact that it was during peace time, since his actions were committed during war, he was condemned to death. Although she was not around to see it, she heard he was beheaded on the parade grounds, and then finally laid to rest with his wife, Willow's mother.

It was a somber event. No cheers rang out among the crowd. There was no joy in his death. She met up with Vincent as her father demanded, but returned to San d'Oria once again shortly thereafter. Determined to repair her family name she joined the auxiliary militia of the Royal Knights. Hildegarde was also among their ranks and things were tense for a quite a while. Those memories would have to wait for a different day.

The strain of the spell was lingering. Try as she might, she couldn't shake the fatigue or her sadness. Willow did her best to focus on what needed to be done. Changing her linkpearl once again, she spoke into the shell.

"Mag?"

"Will! I'm out of ideas. I need to make a break for it."

"I was just about to tell you to come. Everything's set. We're just waiting on a few people to show. They'll be here by the time you make it. I'll see you in a few."

"Don't leave!"

"I'll stay on shell in case something goes wrong with your escape. Don't worry; I'm here."

Willow got up and stretched. A vigorous shake of her head failed to empty the cobwebs. A purple void opened in front of her and out stepped adventurers of various shapes, sizes, and races. Each was a hodgepodge of mismatched armor and weapons. There was an assortment of scythes, swords, lances, knuckles, etc. A small, female Tarutaru with a wand-sized "staff" waved at Willow before disappearing into another void.

"Thanks for your support, guys. I'll wait for the others to show up before we go over the plan."

The assembled crew grunted and nodded their agreement. Moments later, the Tarutaru arrived once again, bringing more adventurers with her. Vincent grinned roguishly at her once he appeared as well. Willow returned the sentiment. With everyone present and accounted for, she dismissed the crystal.

"Gentlemen, and Hanini, Magiere will be showing up soon leading the Tenshodo through those two trees," Willow pointed at the spot she rigged. "Note the flags in ground. They're there to help with any wind adjustments you may need. At this distance it shouldn't be much of a problem but we need to be dead-on. We need to knock them off their mounts in that spot. I've got a little something I've been meaning to try out."

"Geez, Will, no need to be so mysterious. What's the deal?"

"If you must know, Hork, they're gravity bombs. That'll keep them from running off. We should make short work of them then."

"Sounds good to me, you guys ready for a fight?" Horkas raised his lance and shouted. The others soon followed suit, much to the Willlow's chagrin.

"Guys, it's not wise to give away your position in an ambush."

"Sorry, Will. Just itchin' to kick ass."

"You'll get your chance, now everyone down!" All counted, there were thirteen adventurers, Willow included, lying in wait. She looked over the bunch and smiled at the futility of the hulking Galka trying to hide. She enlisted the aid of Hanini to cast invisibility spells on the four of them that had shown up.

In the distance, Willow could make out Magiere on a chocobo. Behind her followed a yellow mass of followers whose number was indistinguishable at that range. The nearer they drew the easier it was to discern their strength. Willow put their number at eight. Satisfied at their numerical superiority, she began assigning riders to the firing line to ensure each rider received their due "attention."

"Everyone have their targets? Ready your weapons. Range, 55 meters. Wind, west at 20 knots." The firing line loaded crossbows and nocked their arrows. Magiere passed the trees. Within moments, her pursuers passed the mark as well.

"Fire."

As planned, the riders were thrown off the chocobos and landed in the patch of gravity bombs. Willow mouthed the command to set them off. Plumes of smoke and flashes of light marked each bombs detonation. The passing wind revealed the Tenshodo riders slowly getting to their feet. Each looked as if they were trudging through waist deep water. The scene brought a smile to Willow's face.

"Attack," she shouted, drawing her sword. Magiere, Vincent, and the rest of companions went charging forward to meet their hindered opponents. Even Hanini, running as fast as her tiny legs could take her, charged. For the briefest of moments, she thought of her father once again.

At first she was baffled by the crown's actions. Why would they allow a disgraced knight to be interred with the honored dead? It wasn't until much later that she realized that it was penitence for carrying out such a cruel punishment in peace. The traditions and laws only allowed one course of action in his case. The situation they found themselves in today was all thanks to Magiere's penchant for thievery, even if it was directed towards a worthy cause. In the face of all the sacrifices her mother and father made for her to grow up in peace, the familial sword in her hand knew her life now was anything but peaceful. It seems everyone is bound by the past, kings and commoners, knights and adventurers.

Willow lamented the day's events. It was supposed to be a morning of practicing spells then Magiere and she were supposed to visit her father. She would take the time and dress up. After all, today was a special occasion. It was three years ago this day that he embraced his fate with honor.

_Note: I've been working on this for quite a while thanks to many events in real life which have prevented me from actually getting online anymore. If you've made it this far then thanks for reading. This is my first attempt at putting anything to words, and I think it shows. What was supposed to be simple short story ended up being a whole hell of a lot longer than I anticipated. Eh, such is life, no? Thanks, again._


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